THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


JS7.  H.  PIERSON. 


IN  "GOD'S 
COUNTRY 


Bv 

HIGBEE 


Wtih  an  Introduction  t>v 
HENRY  WATTERSON 


And  notes  on  the  plav    &    & 
"A  SOUTHERN  ROMANCE" 

Bv 

B.  B.  VALLENTINE 


New  York 

AMERICAN  PUBLISHERS 
CORPORATION 
310-315  Slxm  Avenue 


Copyright    iSSq,  ty 
Belford    Company. 


Copyright,   1897, 

by 
American    Publisher*    Corporation. 


PS 


NOTES  ON  THE  PLAY 

"A  SOUTHERN  ROMANCE.' 


It    is    a  matter  of  surprise  that  few    who 

enjoyed  '  In  God's  Country"  saw  its  dramatic 
*•« 

possibilities,    even    after    reading    Mr.    Henry 

Watterson's  brilliant  introduction  to  the  story. 
Anyone  accustomed  to  write  for  the  stage 
would  certainly  recognize  in  the  book  dramatic 
situations,  but  was  there  sufficient  material  to 

Q 

make  a  play  for  a  whole  evening's  entertain 
ment? 

_^  The  characters  in  the  story  are  drawn  in  a 

way  that  shows  the  touch  of  genius.  •  Their 
obvious  truth  to  life  is  convincing,  but  the 

CO  incidents,  though  strong,  are  mere  episodes  and 
unpromising  for  the  construction  and  the  weav 
ing  of  a  consistent  and  properly-developed  plot. 
The  passage  that  suggested  the  dramati 
zation  is  in  Mr.  Watterson's  preface,  It  says, 

i 


449646 


Notes  on  the  Play. 


"  The  plot  interest  turns  upon  the  develop 
ment  of  the  heart  interest."  The  overwhelm 
ing  heart  interest  brought  out  in  so  masterly 
a  manner  made  the  dramatization  possible,  and 
the  story  "  In  God's  Country  "  is  now  familiar 
to  playgoers  throughout  the  country  as  "  A 
Southern  Romance." 

New  characters  had  necessarily  to  be  created, 
new  situations  to  be  devised,  and  the  ending  to 
be  a  happy  one  in  order  to  make  a  drama  of 
"  In  God's  Country."  It  was  found  also  that 
the  Tramp  would  be  more  effective  on  the 
stage  as  a  Frenchman  than  as  a  German. 

There  is  always  a  tendency  on  the  part  of 
American  audiences  to  laugh  at  Germans  on 
the  stage,  the  comic  Teuton  in  vaudeville  and 
farce-comedy  with  his  broken  English  having 
almost  destroyed  the  possibility  of  the  stage 
"  Dutchman's  "  being  taken  seriously,  no  mat 
ter  in  what  guise  he  appears. 

The  opening  performance  took  place  at  the 
Fifth  Avenue  Theatre,  New  York,  in  the  pres 
ence  of  a  large  audience,  Saturday  evening, 
September  4th,  1897, 


Notes  on  the  Play.  iii 

Fifth  Avenue  Theatre. 
A    SOUTHERN   ROMANCE, 

A  drama  in  three  acts  by  B.  B.  Vallentine, 

founded  on  Dolly  Higbee's  novel, 

"In  God's  Country." 

Several  changes  in  the  original  cast  were 
found  advisable,  and  the  company  now  pre 
senting  the  play  is  as  follows : 

CAST. 

Lydia  Ransome,  -  -  Miss  Beryl  Hope 
Emily  Wyckoff,  from  New  York  City, 

Miss  Cora  Tinnie 

Meriky,     -  Miss  Emma  Brennan 

Andre,  Mr.  Emmett  Corrigan 

Bourdin,  -  -  -  -  Mr.  E.  A.  White 
Colonel  Wyckoff  Ransome, 

Mr.  John  W.  Thompson 

Beverly  Johnson,  -  -  Mr.  Franklyn  Hill 
Claude  Groves,  -  -  Mr.  Edward  Wade 
Elic,  }  |  Negro  boys  1  f  Mr.  Thomas  H.  Ince 
Mose,  r  "j  on  r  •!  Mr.  Henry  Tanes 
Gabe,  J  I  the  farm,  J  I  Mr.  Frederick  Day 

Time — The  Present, 


Notes  on  the  Play. 


The  action  takes  place  on  Colonel  Ransome's 
farm,  near  Lexington,  Kentucky. 

Act  I. — Recognition. 

Act  1 1. -Flight. 

Act  III. — Forgiveness. 

The  critical  notices  in  the  New  York  news 
papers  were  in  most  cases  favorable. 

New  York  World  :  "  The  Fifth  Avenue  opens 
with  a  great  artistic  success.  .  .  The  audience 
liked  the  play  for  the  story  it  told,  the  manner 
in  which  it  was  developed  and  the  charming 
local  color  and  atmosphere  it  possessed.  .  .  The 
author  has  certainly  preserved  all  its  charm  ;  he 
has  brought  out  the  full  value  of  the  characters 
and  he  has  couched  the  language  of  Miss  Hig- 
bee's  creations  in  dialogue  that  is  natural  and 
effective.  .  .  Since  '  Alabama '  the  local  stage 
has  seen  nothing  more  poetical  and  graceful 
than  the  opening  act  of  this  new  play.  .  .  As  a 
purely  natural  story  full  of  human  interest,  a 
true  transcript  from  life,  fraught  with  a  fine 
romantic  and  sympathetic  strain,  '  A  Southern 
Romance '  should  realize  all  that  its  projectors 


Notes  on  the  Play. 


hope  to  accomplish.  .  .  'A  Southern  Romance' 
is  the  first  genuine  artistic  hit  of  the  season." 

New  York  Herald :  "  In  these  days  of  re 
action  from  the  problem  drama  the  realistic 
jaded  theatre-goers  find  pleasure  in  the  unfold 
ing  of  a  simple  story  of  romantic  love.  '  A 
Southern  Romance'  is  of  this  type.  .  .  The  stage 
setting  is  attractive  and  the  plot  is  limpid  as  a 
mountain  stream.  .  .  '  A  Southern  Romance ' 
will  prove  an  attractive  entertainment." 

The  Sun  says :  "  There  is  a  charm  of  nat 
uralness  in  'A  Southern  Romance.'  .  .  The  story 
that  it  tells  is  sweet  and  simple.  It  was  pleas 
ant  reading  in  the  book  and  Mr.  Vallentine 
preserved  its  merits  very  well  in  transferring  it 
to  the  stage." 

New  York  Press  :  "  New  play  makes  a  hit ! 
In  '  A  Southern  Romance  '  are  all  the  elements 
of  success.  It  is  a  delightful  drama,  full  of 
heart  interest,  with  plenty  of  situations  and 
thrilling  incidents.  .  .  The  reception  accorded  to 
the  play  last  evening  was  enthusiastic.  .  .  '  A 
Southern  Romance '  bids  fair  to  meet  with  as 
much  success  as  '  Alabama.'" 

"  Alan  Pale,"  in  New  York  Journal :  "  The 


vi  Notes  on  the  Play. 

atmosphere  of '  A  Southern  Romance '  is  singu 
larly  quiet  and  comforting." 

New  York  Times  :  "  Its  love  story  is  told  in  a 
sympathetic  and  touching  way." 

New  York  Daily  News :  "  The  play  met  with 
a  cordial  reception  from  the  public." 

Mail  and  Express :  "  This  new  piece  is 
worthy  the  patronage  of  the  intelligent  theatre 
goer  and  will  probably  get  it.  .  .  'A  Southern 
Romance'  palpably  succeeds.  .  .  There  is  in 
the  output  a  rationality  of  dialogue,  a  seeming 
spontaneity  of  sentiment  and  well-contrived 
suspense,  frequently  turned  to  trepidation  that 
gives  it  exceptional  distinction  and  charm." 

Evening  Sun  :  "  The  first  act  of  '  A  South 
ern  Romance'  is  as  simple  and  direct  a  piece 
of  stagecraft  as  has  been  seen  in  many  a  long 
day.  It  unfolds  the  story  in  a  charming  man 
ner  and  ends  with  a  climax  which  is  striking 
and  unusual." 

New  York  Evening  Journal :  "  The  piece  is 
the  work  of  Mr.  B.  B.  Vallentine,  who  was  the 
editor  of  Puck  and  was  widely  known  as  the 
author  of  the  '  Fitznoodle  Papers,'  which  were 
a  feature  of  comic  journalism  fifteen  years  ago. 


Notes  on  the  Play.  vii 

The  playwright  has  not  adhered  with  absolute 
fidelity  to  the  lines  of  the  story.  The  play  has 
a  happier  ending  than  in  the  book." 

The  Spirit  of  the  Times  :  "  The  new  play  was 
favorably  received  by  a  distinctly  Southern 
audience.  .  .  The  Colonel  with  his  shotgun 
marching  back  by  Lydia's  side  is  a  striking, 
dramatic  picture.  .  .  The  Southern  atmosphere 
of  the  romance  has  been  carefully  preserved 
by  Mr.  Vallentine's  experienced  skill.  .  .  The 
scenery,  by  Josef  Physioc,  is  admirable.  .  .  A 
pretty  play  beautifully  staged  is  the  verdict 
upon  '  A  Southern  Romance.' " 

The  Daily  Telegraph  speaks  of  it  as  "An 
exceeding  charming  play." 

New  York  Mirror :  "  The  play  is  clear, 
straightforward  and  well  told." 

New  York  Criterion  (Percival  Pollard)  :  "  This 
play  has  the  one,  the  unique,  the  desirable 
quality  ;  it  goes  straight  to  the  heart.  This 
play  gives  you  the  South  ;  it  gives  you  romance ; 
it  gives  you  tears,  and  it  gives  you  joy ;  and 
over  it  all  there  is  the  infinitely  restful  quality  of 
genuineness.  .  .  When  a  play  pleases  the  eye 
and  the  ear  and  keeps  your  emotions  surging  in 


viii  Notes  on  the  Play. 

channels  that  have  nothing  of  regret  in  them,  I 
think  that  play  has  served  its  purpose.  .  .  It  is  a 
play  that  touches  all  that  is  best  in  one.  Yes,  it 
is  like  a  garden  of  tender  magnolias,  is  this  play." 

New  York  Home  Journal :  "  The  coloring  is 
pleasant,  atmospheric  effect  faithful,  composition 
excellent  and  handling  effective.  .  .  The  play  is 
very  well  written,  the  dialogue  being  easy  and 
the  diction  choice.  Mr.  Vallentine  is  a  literary 
man  and  a  skilled  playwright.  His  services  have 
done  the  utmost  possible  for  the  play.  .  .  It  is 
well  mounted  at  the  Fifth  Avenue  Theatre, 
admirably  acted,  too ;  in  fact,  a  better  company 
is  seldom  seen  outside  of  the  Frohman  and 
Daly  stock  companies  ;  all  are  convincing." 

Less  favorable  notices  dwelt  on  minor  points 
— but  the  consensus  of  press  opinion  from  the 
foregoing  extracts  establishes  the  fact  that  "  A 
Southern  Romance "  is  an  unquestionable 
success. 

B.  B.  VALLENTINE. 

American  Dramatists'  Clut, 
New  York)  October  ajd,  t&fl. 


PREFATORY   NOTE. 


THIS  tragic  story  of  "  the  dark  and 
bloody  ground  "  made  a  deep  impression 
when  it  appeared  as  a  completed  novelette 
in  Belford's  Magazine ;  and,  in  its  present 
form,  it  is  believed  that  it  will  receive, 
as  it  deserves  to  receive,  a  wider  and  more 
serious  attention  than  is  commonly  be 
stowed  upon  our  ever-multiplying  stock 
of  literary  effusions. 

It  is  a  romance  of  Kentucky,  racy  of 
the  soil,  redolent  of  the  barn-yard  and 
the  stable,  rich  with  the  tints  of  bluegrass 
in  the  landscape,  yet  so  subtile  in  struct 
ure,  and  so  filled  with  the  spirit  of  tragedy, 
as  to  rise  above  the  latter-day  common- 
5 


Prefatory  Note. 


place  of  our  uninspired  life  into  the  atmos 
phere  of  the  idyllic,  and  to  be  at  one  and 
the  same  time  a  current  chronicle,  an  an 
tique  and  a  classic. 

What  but  the  vision  of  true  genius  could 
see  success  in  a  task  so  original  and  dar 
ing  as  the  creation  of  a  throbbing  heart- 
interest  out  of  materials  so  simple,  so 
slight,  and  so  trite  ?  and  whose  but  the  hand 
of  an  artist  could  have  given  to  this  task 
execution  so  powerful  and  brilliant  ? 

"  In  '  God's  Country '  "  is  the  plain  and 
circumstantial  narrative  of  a  woman's 
struggle  with  that  great  passion  which  has 
wrecked  and  brightened  so  many  lives. 
It  is  the  old,  old  story  of  love  and  pride. 
There  are  but  four  characters  :  a  country 
girl,  of  the  average  sort ;  her  father,  a 
country  gentleman  of  the  average  sort ;  a 
horsy  lover,  of  the  average  sort ;  and  a 


Prefatory  Note. 


tramp,  very  far  indeed  from  the  average 
sort.  The  plot-interest  turns  upon  the  de 
velopment  of  the  heart-interest.  There  is 
no  striving  here  for  effect.  The  lights  and 
shadows  are  furnished  by  the  idiosyncra 
sies  of  a  situation  purely  local  and  natural. 
Into  the  tranquil  existence  of  a  well-bred 
but  motherless  girl,  living  alone  with  her 
father,  and  the  head  of  his  establishment, 
and  betrothed,  as  a  kind  of  matter-of- 
course,  to  a  young  man  with  whom  she  has 
grown  to  womanhood — her  own  and  her 
father's  choice — there  comes  a  spell 
against  which  she  is  wholly  unable  to  con 
tend,  and  beneath  whose  enchanting  death- 
strokes  she  ultimately  falls. 

It  is  difficult  to  conceive  how  the  sore 
travail  of  Lydia  Ransome  could  have  ha* 
any  other  ending.  It  is  the  misfortune  of 
women  in  positions  such  as  hers — the  not 


Prefatory  Note. 


uncommon  position  of  an  internal  battivi 
between  conflicting  sentiments  of  honor, 
duty,  and  affection — that,  unequal  in  point 
of  intellectual  strength  to  meet  the  inces 
sant  drain  upon  their  nervous  energies, 
and  to  think  clearly,  they  are  also  unsup 
ported  by  the  wisdom  of  worldly  experi 
ence,  and  are  dashed  upon  the  rocks  of 
conventional  usage — often  irrelevant  to  the 
actual  issue  involved — by  the  waves  of 
their  own  emotion,  which,  unlike  the  tides 
of  the  ocean,  are  controlled  by  no  law 
except  that  which  superstition  and  passion 
make  unto  themselves.  A  wicked  woman 
in  Lydia's  place  would  have  known  pre 
cisely  what  to  do.  A  good  woman,  with  a 
sufficiency  of  moral  courage  and  knowl 
edge  of  life,  would  have  been  equally  sure 
of  her  course.  But  there  is  a  woman  be 
tween  the  two.  not  bad  enough  to  be  a 


Prefatory  Note. 


schemer,  not  strong  enough  to  be  a  hero 
ine — truly  feminine  and  lovely — who,  when 
left  alone  upon  the  sea  of  human  passion, 
is  as  a  frail  boat  tossed  by  every  wind.  Of 
this  type  was  Lydia  Ransome  ;  having  a 
noble,  aspiring  nature ;  perceptions  and 
susceptibilities  divinely  born  ;  of  ready  per 
sonal  courage  and  social  tact ;  but  half- 
made  upon  the  spiritual  side,  and  a  slave 
to  the  abridgments  and  prejudices  of  the 
provincial  code  under  which  her  lot  had 
been  cast.  There  was  nothing  for  it  but 
anguish,  despair,  and  death.  She  could 
not  rise  high  enough,  nor  sink  low  enough, 
to  escape.  How  she  fell,  like  a  martyr,  if 
not  like  a  heroine,  is  told  with  a  power  rare 
to  modern  fiction ;  and  the  lesson  that 
issues  thence,  sweet  as  the  flowers  that 
sprang  from  her  grave,  is  full  of  a  wo 
man's  appeal  and  protest  against  the 


io  Prefatory  Note. 

limitations  with  which  custom  hedges  her 
about,  whilst  giving  the  man  remission 
and  license. 

Of  the  male  characters  little  need  be 
said.  Colonel  Ransome,  the  father,  is  a 
good  type  of  the  country  gentleman  of 
Central  Kentucky,  well-drawn  and  not  ex 
aggerated.  Horrible  as  the  final  catas 
trophe  is,  it  is  possible.  The  two  other 
males,  the  horsy  lover  and  the  weird 
tramp,  are  mere  shadows ;  the  identity  of 
the  tramp  arousing  the  suspicion  of  the 
reader  from  the  opening  episode  of  Schu 
bert's  Serenade,  and  entirely  revealing  it 
self  in  that  superb  dramatic  climax,  which 
makes  a  new  world  for  Lydia,  and  fills  it 
with  the  music  of  the  spheres.  The  clos 
ing  chapters  are  breezy  with  action  and 
of  breathless  interest ;  and  the  finale  is 
reached  with  the  abrupt  force  of  intense 


Prefatory  Note. 


feeling,  but  without  the  sacrifice  of  artistic 
finish. 

I  venture  to  say  thus  much  of  this  story 
because  of  its  merits,  intrinsically  consid 
ered,  and  because  of  the  promise  it  gives 
of  a  new  and  original  presence  in  a  field 
where,  at  its  best,  mere  photography  seems 
to  have  taken  the  place  of  the  pencil  and 
the  pen,  and  cultivated  mediocrity  rules 
supreme.  "  In  '  God's  Country,'  "  is  a 
bucket  out  of  the  well  of  human  passion, 
sympathy,  and  love,  from  which  Georges 
Sand  and  George  Eliot  brought  forth  such 
copious  draughts,  giving  us  assurance  that 
the  waters  there  have  not  gone  dry.  Let 
us  hope  that,  in  the  personality  of  "  D. 
Higbee,"  this  assurance  will  be  fully  real 
ized. 

HENRY  WATTERSON, 

Courier-Journal  of  Jan.  3,  1890. 


IN  "GOD'S  COUNTRY." 


i. 

IT  was  an  afternoon  in  early  spring, 
sunny  and  soft,  but  a  trifle  cool  in  the 
shade.  The  air  was  heavy  with  the  odor 
of  locust-blooms  that  met  in  a  long,  snowy 
arch  over  the  smooth,  white  turnpike,  and 
the  grassy  margin  on  either  side  the  high 
way  was  dotted  with  wild  violets,  blue  and 
white.  The  road  traversed  the  region 
known  as  Central  Kentucky,  and  on  each 
side  of  it,  now  level,  now  rolling,  stretched 
the  fertile  uplands  of  the  "  Bluegrass."  In 
every  direction  the  eye  encountered  an 
13 


14  In  "  God's  Country." 

attenuated  line  of  darker  green  that 
marked  the  capricious  winding  and  doub 
ling  of  the  Elkhorn,  which  spread  itself 
over  the  landscape  like  loops  of  a  tangled 
skein. 

Along  this  flowery,  fragrant  highway  a 
man  walked  slowly,  wearily.  He  wore  a 
wide-brimmed  slouch  hat  that  almost  con 
cealed  his  face,  and  carried  a  queer  knap 
sack  strapped  upon  his  back,  which,  like 
the  rest  of  his  belongings,  was  thickly 
coated  with  the  fine  white  dust  of  the 
"  pike."  His  clothes  were  not  so  new,  nor 
so  exact  in  their  correspondence  to  the 
length  and  breadth  of  his  figure  as  they 
might  have  been.  He  was  tall  and  would 
have  seemed  slender  but  for  the  bagging 
superfluity  of  his  garments,  and  he  carried 
himself  with  an  easy  grace  that  refused  to 
yield  to  the  conspiracy  of  fatigue  and 


In  "  God's  Country."  15 

uncouth  attire.  In  a  buttonhole  of  his 
dilapidated  coat  was  a  bunch  of  violets 
gathered  from  the  roadside,  and  in  his 
hand  a  blooming  branch  of  locust  that 
trailed  a  faint,  sweet  odor  as  he  went. 

It  was  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon 
when  he  stopped  in  front  of  a  wide,  lime- 
washed  farm  gate  that  opened  into  a  broad 
avenue,  at  the  other  end  of  which  a  cluster 
of  chimneys,  rising  out  of  a  grove  of  ma 
ples,  indicated  a  dwelling  of  some  sort. 
He  turned  in  at  the  gate  and  followed  the 
carriage-drive  toward  the  house.  The 
sward  was  starred  with  golden  dandelions  ; 
above  him  the  maples,  not  yet  in  leaf, 
swung  their  pale  yellow  tassels,  throwing 
frail,  web-like  shadows  over  the  tender 
green  of  the  young  bluegrass ;  to  right  and 
left  of  him  lay  fertile  reaches  of  pasture, 
broad  fields  of  freshly  turned  earth,  acres 


16  In  "  God's  Country." 

of  newly  springing  cereals  in  varying 
shades  of  green  ; — a  landscape  in  the  un 
obtrusive  tints  of  a  water-color,  domed 
with  a  sweep  of  grayish-blue  sky  and 
flooded  with  the  pale,  tremulous  light  of  an 
April  sun. 

The  soft  green  of  the  young  grass,  the 
furrowed  fields  of  rich,  brown  loam  whose 
clean,  earthy  smell  was  borne  to  him  by 
the  breeze,  presented  a  soothing  contrast 
to  the  glare  of  the  hard,  white  road.  His 
eyes  dwelt  lingeringly  upon  the  prospect ; 
he  breathed  deeply  the  fresh  air,  with  its 
stimulating  aroma  of  ploughed -land,  and 
removed  his  hat  that  he  might  feel  the  cool 
wind  upon  his  head  as  he  walked  leisurely 
toward  the  house.  As  he  drew  near,  the 
structure  became  more  distinct  in  outline. 
It  was  a  square,  old-fashioned  house  with 
a  hall  running  through  the  middle,  and  a 


In  "  God's  Country."  17 

porch  in  front,  like  all  the  other  dwellings 
he  had  passed  during  the  day.  Clustered 
about  it  were  the  innumerable  outbuildings 
that  give  every  Kentucky  farm  the  appear 
ance  of  a  populous  village.  There  was  the 
long,  low  line  of  lime-washed  log  cabins, 
with  its  group  of  ebony  figures  in  front. 
To  the  left  gleamed  the  white  walls  of  the 
training  stable,  also  with  its  sprawling 
group  around  the  door.  Between  the 
stable  and  the  house  there  was  a  glimpse 
of  smooth  water,  where  the  fish-pond  lay, 
edged  with  a  golden  fringe  of  willows  still 
bare  of  foliage.  Beyond  rose  the  grassy 
undulations  of  the  orchard,  whose  green 
billows  were  capped  with  foamy  crests  of 
apple-bloom  that  leapt  and  danced  in  the 
brisk,  strong  wind. 

Presently  he  could  distinguish  a  moving 
object  upon  the  lawn  and  a  vivid  point  of 


i8  In  "God's  Country." 

color  glinting  through  the  shrubbery.  A 
hammock  with  a  feminine  occupant  devel 
oped  gradually  against  the  green  back 
ground  ;  the  point  of  color  became  a  scar 
let  shawl ;  and  the  steadily  diminishing 
perspective  brought  out  such  minor  details 
as  a  slender,  slippered  foot,  tapping  the 
ground  now  and  then  to  keep  the  ham 
mock  in  motion,  and  a  cascade  of  lace- 
edged  ruffles  escaping  to  view  through  a 
negligent  arrangement  of  drapery. 

He  walked  to  within  a  few  feet  of  the 
hammock  and  stood  watching  its  burden 
across  the  top  of  a  spreading  syringa  that 
screened  him  from  view.  For  a  moment 
he  forgot  his  hunger  and  his  weariness  in 
the  contemplation  of  the  most  delicious 
incarnation  of  idle  revery  his  imagination 
could  picture.  Though  her  eyes  were 
closed,  she  was  not  asleep,  for  the  foot 


///  "  Goifs  Country"  19 

kept  tapping  the  sward ;  and  over  the  edge 
of  the  hammock  and  down  upon  the  grass 
streamed  a  flowing  abundance  of  red  gold 
hair,  damp  and  clinging,  that  caught  and 
held  the  light  like  amber. 

He  was  loath  to  disturb  her,  for  he  was 
sure  no  other  pose  could  be  so  perfectly, 
so  unconsciously  picturesque ;  but  he  was 
very  hungry,  and  the  urging  of  the  material 
man  began  at  last  to  blunt  the  artistic 
sense.  For  a  second's  space  he  stood 
irresolute,  then,  with  a  deploring  glance  at 
his  attire,  which  at  that  moment  was  more 
obtrusively  distasteful  to  him  than  at  any 
time  since  he  had  assumed  it,  he  stepped 
softly  from  behind  the  bush. 

Her  face  was  turned  in  the  opposite 
direction,  but  in  a  moment  the  odor  of  the 
locust  branch  he  carried  had  filled  the  air. 
She  opened  her  eyes,  turned  her  head 


20  In  "  God's  Country." 

slightly,  and  saw  him  standing  before  her, 
dusty  and  pale,  asking  for  something  to 
eat. 

She  sprang  up  instantly  and  covered  him 
with  a  swift,  startled  glance.  That  hurried 
inspection  was  sufficient  to  muster  him  into 
the  great  army  of  outcasts,  few  specimens 
of  which  penetrated  the  peaceful  and 
plenteous  seclusion  that  environed  her. 
Then  she  remembered  that  there  was  no 
one  within  call  but  the  negro  women  at  the 
cabin,  who  were  in  as  great  terror  of  tramps 
as  herself,  and  would  be  likely  to  run  in 
the  other  direction  as  soon  as  they  under 
stood  the  situation.  The  bunch  of  violets 
on  his  dusty  lapel  caught  her  eye  just  in 
time  to  arrest  the  blood-curdling  shriek 
rising  in  her  throat.  In  another  moment 
the  intruder  had  removed  his  hat,  and  with 
that  act  the  look  of  consternation  faded 


In  "  God's  Country."  21 

from  her  face.  His  boutonniere  alone 
would  have  been  a  certificate  of  char 
acter ;  the  man  who  had  violets  in  but" 
tonhole  was  not  likely  to  have  spoons  in 
his  pocket  or  murder  in  his  heart :  but  a 
man  who  took  off  his  hat  in  that  way  was 
above  suspicion  of  crime.  She  was  accus 
tomed  to  seeing  the  male  head  uncovered 
in  her  presence.  Every  man  who  met  her, 
whether  he  knew  her  or  not,  every  negro 
who  passed  her  in  the  road,  lifted  his  hat ; 
but  until  this  moment  she  had  no  concep 
tion  of  how  much  might  be  conveyed  in 
that  simple  gesture.  Admiration — the  de 
light  of  an  artistic  temperament  in  what  is 
ideally  beautiful ;  reverence  for  the  being 
that  enshrined  it ;  a  humiliating  sense  of 
his  own  unprepossessing  appearance  and 
unwarrantable  intrusion  upon  the  idyllic 
harmony  of  the  scene :  a  certain  lofty 


22  In  "God's  Country r 

courtesy  defying  the  drapery  of  indigence 
that  enveloped  him ; — all  blended  in  that 
eloquent  movement,  equally  remote  from 
the  servile  obeisance  of  the  negro  and  the 
off-hand  greetings  she  received  from  her 
associates. 

Yes,  he  was  a  tramp  certainly,  but  with  a 
difference  that  entitled  him  to  humane  con 
sideration  and  removed  for  the  moment 
her  appalling  dread  of  all  such  outcasts. 
She  would  give  him  a  lunch. 

She  rose,  caught  up  with  a  hairpin  the 
loose,  clinging  mass  of  hair,  adjusted  the 
scarlet  shawl,  and  led  the  way  to  the  porch 
at  the  back  of  the  house.  She  gave  him  a 
chair,  and  going  to  the  end  of  the  porch 
lifted  up  a  clear,  ringing  voice,  and  called 
"  Meriky  !  "  several  times. 

The  sound  fell  faintly  on  the  ears  of 
Meriky  (America),  dozing  in  the  cabin 


In  "God's  Country."  23 

door,  who  blinked  her  lazy  lids  but  did  not 
stir.  "  That  nigger  ain't  worth  her  salt," 
murmured  Miss  Ransome,  more  to  herself 
than  to  her  listener,  as  she  swept  a  basket 
of  hopelessly  dishevelled  embroidery  silks 
off  a  small  round  table  and  proceeded  to 
spread  the  lunch  herself.  Her  pensioner 
had  eaten  many  lunches,  and  had  gone 
without  many  more  than  he  had  eaten, 
since  he  started  upon  his  long,  tedious 
tramp;  he  had  eaten  many  lunches  in  many 
lands :  but  he  could  remember  nothing 
quite  so  appetizing  as  the  rosy,  fragrant 
slices  of  ham,  the  cold  chicken,  the  beaten 
biscuits,  and  the  pitcher  of  cold  milk  that 
were  set  before  him  this  afternoon. 

When  his  meal  was  ready,  Miss  Ran 
some,,  who  by  this  time  had  bethought  her 
of  the  gallant  thieveries  of  Claude  Duval 
and  his  ilk,  seated  herself  near  the  table, 


24  In  "  God's  Country." 

so  that,  in  case  her  hasty  estimate  of  the 
man  were  at  fault,  she  would  be  able  to 
keep  an  eye  upon  the  silver  cup  from  which 
he  was  drinking  his  milk,  and  the  other 
articles  she  had  incautiously  laid  before 
him. 

She  took  up  the  embroidery,  but  was  not 
too  much  engaged  to  notice  that  his  hands 
were  very  small  and  finely  shaped,  and 
that,  although  he  was  very  hungry,  he  dis 
posed  of  his  food  daintily,  as  one  acquainted 
with  polite  arts. 

His  blond  hair,  longer  than  she  was  ac 
customed  to  seeing  it  worn  by  men,  was 
pushed  negligently  back  from  a  forehead 
whose  veined  pallor  presented  a  startling 
contrast  to  the  sunburnt  face.  His  eyes 
had  a  pleasant  light  in  them,  and  the  short, 
slightly  curling  beard,  shading  from  blond 
to  pale  brown,  only  partially  concealed  the 


In  "  God's  Country."  25 

curves  of  a  mouth  that  was  above  reproach. 
As  Miss  Ransome  noted  these  details  she 
was  moved  to  speculate  upon  his  ante 
cedent  life,  and  presently  had  him  relieved 
against  a  background  of  romance  that 
would  have  done  credit  to  the  imagination 
of  Scott  or  Dumas.  The  slight  foreign  ac 
cent  that  colored  his  speech  was  all  that 
was  needed  to  give  the  utmost  latitude  to 
invention.  She  could  not  tell  from  it  what 
he  was,  but  he  was  not  an  American.  She 
thought  he  might  be  French.  He  had  at 
all  events  some  connection  with  that  old 
land  so  rich  in  song  and  story.  A  fervid 
fancy,  untempered  by  experience,  untram 
melled  by  facts,  played  over  him  in  auroral 
flashes,  and  fitted  his  plastic  figure  into  a 
thousand  romantic  incidents. 

As  often  as  she  looked  directly  at  him, 
she  caught  him  in   the  act  of  withdrawing 


26  In  "God's  Country." 

his  eyes  from  a  furtive  perusal  of  herself ; 
and  when  they  met  her  own  fully,  as  they 
did  once  or  twice,  there  crossed  her  mind  a 
fleeting  fragment  of  rhyme  about  some 
thing  that  was  "deeply,  darkly,  beautifully 
blue."  When  he  had  finished,  he  stood 
before  her  a  moment  to  acknowledge  her 
kindness. 

"  I  vill  vork  for  you  for  my  dinner,"  he 
said. 

There  was  a  suggestion  of  helplessness 
in  his  imperfect  utterance  that  appealed  to 
the  maternal  instinct  like  the  lisp  of  a 
baby.  She  was  so  occupied  with  his  man 
ner  of  delivering  it  that  she  did  not  catch 
the  import  of  his  remark  until  he  repeated 
it.  Then  her  face  flushed. 

"  Never  mind,"  she  answered,  hastily ; 
"  you  are  quite  welcome  ;  besides,  there  is 
nothing  to  do." 


In  "  God's  Country."  27 

It  was  singular  that  in  the  vagabond, 
pure  and  simple,  there  was  nothing  incom 
patible  with  poetic  associations ;  but  the 
moment  she  thought  of  him  at  work — 
carrying  stove-wood  or  cutting  weeds  to 
pay  for  his  dinner — the  prismatic  fantasy 
in  which  he  had  just  been  figuring  dis 
solved  instantly,  leaving  only  the  bare,  un- 
romantic  fact  of  beggary. 

"  Den  I  vill  sing  you  a  song,"  he  said, 
with  the  same  soft  intonation  and  appeal 
ing  faultiness  of  speech,  as  he  stood  look 
ing  down  at  the  guitar  that  lay  on  a  chair 
by  her. 

She  handed  him  the  instrument,  and 
noticed  that  his  hands  adjusted  themselves 
to  neck  and  strings  with  a  familiar  grace 
which  all  her  patient  practice  har"  ;ot  yet 
acquired. 

She  watched  him  enviously,    as,    stand- 


28  In  "  God's  Country." 

ing  a  little  below  her  on  the  steps  of  the 
porch,  he  tuned  the  guitar  and  daintily 
picked  a  prelude. 

Then,  in  a  voice  soft,  mellifluous, 
sweeter  than  anything  she  had  dreamed 
possible  from  a  male  throat,  came  the 
opening  measure  of  Schubert's  serenade 
modulated  to  a  breath.  The  air  was  un 
familiar,  the  language  strange — she  could 
not  understand  a  line  of  it ;  but  what 
matter  ?  What  soul  attuned  to  music 
could  mistake  the  burden  of  that  exquisite 
melody,  tossed  off  in  an  obscure  beer- 
cellar  to  a  chorus  of  clinking  glasses  and 
drunken  laughter,  but  freighted  forever 
with  the  tremulous  ecstasy  of  "  doubtful 
hope,"  embodying  the  most  tender  and 
ethereal  dream  of  love  that  heart  of  man 
has  conceived  ?  She  had  never  before 
heard  a  male  voice  mellowed  by  culture, 


In  "God's  Country."  29 

and  at  the  first  phrase  of  that  song,  in 
which  a  soul  seemed  exhaled,  she  dropped 
the  embroidery  in  her  lap  and  leaned  back 
in  her  chair.  At  the  pleading  pause  in  the 
minor  change,  "  Liebchen,  hore  mich," 
a  strange,  new  feeling  stirred  within  her, 
and  something  rose  in  her  throat. 

"  Bebend  harr'  ich  dir  entgegen,  komm> 
begliicke  mich,  Komm,  begliicke  mich, 
begliicke  mich,"  he  sang,  with  appealing 
iteration  ;  and  as  the  last  word  fell  fainting 
a  semitone  above  the  original  keynote, 
leaving  a  feeling  of  prayer  unanswered, 
the  figure  on  the  step  was  seen  dimly  as 
through  a  mist. 

He  returned  the  instrument,  which  she 
took  from  him  without  a  word,  and  sat 
watching  him  through  moist  lashes  as  he 
turned  away.  In  a  moment  the  battered 
slouch  hat  had  fallen  over  him  like  an 


30  fn  "  God's  Country." 

extinguisher,  and  a  tramp  of  the  most 
ordinary  and  uninteresting  appearance  was 
effaced  by  the  mass  of  fluffy  white  pom 
pons  that  covered  the  snowball-bush  at 
the  end  of  the  porch.  As  he  crossed  the 
lawn  on  the  way  out,  he  paused  beside  the 
hammock.  Caught  in  the  meshes  of  the 
net  was  a  piece  of  pink  ribbon  that  had 
been  torn  from  Miss  Ransome's  dress  in 
the  violent  attempt  to  rise  that  followed 
her  first  glimpse  of  the  intruder.  The 
tramp  disengaged  it,  and,  after  pressing 
his  lips  to  it,  tied  it  in  his  buttonhole, 
taking  care  to  spread  out  the  knot  and 
arrange  the  loops  effectively,  and  went  out 
toward  the  road,  humming,  softly,  "  Lieb- 
chen,  hore  mich." 

Miss  Ransome's  eyes  returned  from  the 
snowball-bush  behind  which  the  figure  had 
disappeared  to  the  spot  where  it  had  stood, 


In  "  God's  Country"  31 

and  they  rested  upon  a  bunch  of  violets 
that  lay  on  the  step.  She  took  them  up 
gently,  noticed  that  the  stems  were  neatly 
woven  together  with  a  blade  of  grass,  and 
pinned  them  on  the  bosom  of  her  dress. 


II. 

COLONEL  RANSOM  E'S  household  con 
sisted  of  himself,  his  daughter  Lydia,  and 
a  large  number  of  negroes  of  all  sizes,  the 
small  ones  being  especially  numerous  and 
prominent.  It  may  be  well  to  remark  in 
passing  that  he  came  legitimately  by  the 
two  essentials  of  a  "  Kentucky  gentle 
man,"  against  which  the  outside  world  has 
broken  so  many  shafts  of  derision — his 
title  and  his  pride  of  ancestry. 

His  baptismal  names,  Wickliffe  Preston, 
proclaimed  his  derivation  from  two  of  the 
most  prominent  families  in  the  State,  and, 
through  them,  his  connection  either  by 
blood  or  marriage  with  a  majority  of  the 
historic  names  of  Kentucky  and  Virginia, 
3* 


.In  "  God's  Country"  33 

On  his  mother's  side  he  traced  his  lineage 
back  through  the  tough  fibre  of  the  Mac- 
Dowell  stock  to  the  sturdy  house  of  Argyll. 
It  was  through  the  maternal  strain  that  he 
was  turned  away  from  the  easy-going  faith 
known  to  the  ruffle-shirted  forefathers  of 
the  other  branch  of  the  family  as  the 
Church  of  England,  to  the  uncompromising 
Presbyterianism  to  which  he  subscribed. 
His  religious  belief  was  not  so  dominant  in 
character  as  to  exert  an  appreciable  influ 
ence  upon  his  outer  life,  but  it  was  a  part 
of  the  man,  and  as  far  as  it  went  it  was 
Calvinistic.  It  had  come  down  to  him 
along  with  the  ancestral  record  and  the 
family  silver,  and  he  no  more  thought  of 
turning  it  over  for  inspection  than  of 
questioning  the  solidity  of  his  plate  or  the 
authenticity  of  his  pedigree.  He  had 

perhaps  but  an  imperfect  impression  of  the 
3 


34  -fn  "  God's  Country" 

articles  embraced  in  his  creed,  but  any 
thing  that  could  have  been  shown  to  exist 
therein  would  have  met  with  his  instant 
approval  and  strenuous  defence.  He 
would  have  fought  for  it  as  valiantly,  bled 
for  it  as  cheerfully,  as  he  had  fought  and 
bled  for  State  rights. 

His  ancestors  had  been  conspicuously 
concerned  in  every  historic  event  of  im 
portance  since  their  first  settlement  in 
Virginia ;  and,  according  to  his  reasoning, 
the  men  who  bought  with  their  blood  the 
greatest  country  on  earth,  and  nursed  it 
through  a  perilous  infancy,  were  as  glori 
ously  deserving  of  knighthood  as  the  le 
gions  that  followed  William  the  Conqueror 
into  England.  Their  deeds  were  not  less 
heroic  because  they  lacked  the  heraldic 
patent  that  was  but  the  outward  symbol  of 
achievement ;  their  nobility  was  none  the 


In  "  God's  Country:'  35 

less  real  because  untitled  :  and  he  was  as 
proudly  conscious  of  good  blood  as  if  his 
plate  had  borne  a  dozen  quarterings. 

Sired  by  an  illustrious  line  of  fighters, 
his  military  record  followed  natural  At 
the  beginning  of  the  war,  when ,  since  he 
Guard,  hotly  indignant  at  the  acti  ^Mof 
Kentucky,  shouldered  the  goverr^ient 
arms  and  marched  after  BuckneK  into 
Tennessee,  Wickliffe  Ransome  made  one 
of  the  impatient  throng  of  horsemen  who 
for  weeks  after  the  abandonment  of 
neutrality  filled  all  the  roads  leading 
southward,  hurrying  across  the  line  to  cast 
in  their  lot  with  the  young  Confederacy. 
He  started  with  the  Sixth  Kentucky,  and 
followed  its  fortunes  through  the  war, 
winning  his  promotion  brilliantly  in  a 
brigade  that  fought  like  the  three  hundred 
at  Thermopylae.  When  the  crowning  dis- 


36  In  "God's  Country." 

aster  came,  and  he  returned,  covered  with 
the  humiliation  of  defeat,  he  found  his 
wife  dead,  and  his  possessions  reduced  to 
a  motherless  daughter  then  nine  years 
of  TU  f^  four  hundred  acres  of  bluegrass 
la-  it  as  ch'rown  witn  weeds  and  brush,  and 
thvj  fcsmantled  wreck  of  a  once  luxurious 
homsstead  standing  open  to  the  wind  and 


The  house  was  not  fit  to  live  in,  and  the 
land  was  worth  nothing  without  the  labor 
that  had  made  it  profitable.  The  negroes 
were  free,  and  there  was  no  money  to 
begin  the  work  of  reparation.  The  child 
and  the  sister,  widowed  by  the  conflict, 
who  must  hereafter  depend  upon  him  for 
support,  spurred  him  to  endeavor.  The 
land  was  mortgaged,  and  with  the  money 
thus  obtained  the  house  was  repaired, 
Stock  and  farming  implements  were 


In  "  God's  Country  r  37 

bought,  and  a  number  of  negroes  were  col 
lected  who,  now  that  there  was  nothing 
more  to  steal  in  the  bare  land,  were  willing 
to  work  upon  promise  of  pay.  Mrs. 
Payne,  the  Colonel's  widowed  sister,  who 
had  cared  for  his  daughter  since  her 
mother's  death,  came  to  live  with  him; 
and  under  her  womanly  and  ingenious 
supervision  the  home  began  to  assume 
something  of  the  old  luxurious  aspect. 
Gradually  the  wilderness  was  reclaimed, 
and  blossomed  as  the  rose,  yielding  the 
more  abundantly  for  its  season  of  rest.  It 
was  marvellous  how  quickly  all  trace  of 
devastation  vanished.  Three  years  after 
the  surrender  of  Lee  a  stranger  travelling 
through  the  country,  who  had  seen  it  in 
war-time,  congratulated  the  Colonel  on  the 
swift  recovery  from  disaster. 

"Well,"   replied    the   Colonel,   proudly, 


38  In  "God's  Country" 

"it  is  God's  country,  and  the  land  don't 
need  much  coaxin'." 

It  was  now  ten  years  since  the  war. 
The  cheery  little  woman  who  had  presided 
over  the  Colonel's  house,  and  bestowed  a 
tender  maternal  care  upon  his  child,  was 
dead^  and  the  bright-eyed,  fair-haired 
daughter  had  risen  to  the  dignity  of  man 
aging  his  domestic  affairs. 

The  Colonel  was  still  young  in  spite  of 
his  forty-five  years  and  the  iron-gray  locks 
that  waved  thickly  about  his  fine  head. 
He  was  six  feet  two  inches  in  height,  and 
the  figure,  once  slender  and  wiry,  had 
acquired  in  the  last  decade  a  generous 
breadth  of  chest  and  shoulder  that  was 
massive  without  being  ponderous ;  and 
this,  with  his  erect  military  carriage,  gave 
him  an  imposing  presence ;  on  horseback 
he  was  superb.  The  fire  of  youth  still 


In  "  God's  Country."  39 

burned  in  his  steel-blue  eye ;  and  in  the 
strong,  combative  chin  and  the  level  line 
of  the  lips  lurked  the  unflinching  courage, 
the  tenacity  of  opinion  and  purpose,  that 
were  part  of  his  inheritance.  His  face 
was  suffused  with  a  mild  ruddiness  induced 
by  liberal  living  and  an  habitual  but  tem 
perate  use  of  the  native  beverage  in  its 
purity  and  the  yellow  perfection  of  age. 
The  habit  of  command  at  home  and  in  the 
field  had  fixed  upon  him  the  authoritative 
manner  that  a  stranger  would  mistake  for 
arrogance,  which  in  the  presence  of  his 
friends,  tempered  by  the  suavity  of  the 
man  of  the  world,  was  at  once  commanding 
and  gentle. 

Toward  women  he  bore  himself  with  the 
insidious  persuasiveness,  the  soft,  caressing 
manner  peculiar  to  the  Southerner,  for 
which  the  Kentuckian  is  pre-eminently  dis- 


40  In  "  God's  Country." 

tinguished — a  manner  in  which  a  flattering 
show  of  homage  is  blended  with  that  ten 
der  and  apparently  absorbing  solicitude  by 
which  a  man  seems  to  envelop  the  object 
of  his  attentions  in  a  protecting  presence ; 
to  become  at  the  same  moment  her  guar 
dian  and  her  slave ;  to  surround  her  with 
an  atmosphere  of  sanctity  while  imploring 
the  favor  that  would  dissipate  it ; — a  man 
ner  irresistibly  fascinating  to  women,  even 
when  it  is  known  to  be  insincere. 

His  attitude  toward  the  sex  was  charac 
teristic.  Beauty  was  not  only  a  charm,  but 
a  virtue.  The  woman  who  had  no  claim 
to  beauty  was  a  social  nonentity ;  she  who 
had  lost  the  bloom  and  freshness  of  youth, 
an  unlit  shrine,  interesting  only  as  an  altar 
round  which  had  once  shone  the  flame  that 
compelled  his  worship.  To  him  the  ideal 
woman  was,  first  of  all  beautiful,  and  one 


In  "God's  Country."  41 

who  could  think  only  with  her  heart.  All 
mental  activity  was  regarded  as  pernicious, 
and  the  woman  who  exhibited  signs  of  it 
was  held  in  the  same  curious  aloofness 
with  which  he  would  have  examined  some 
strange,  glittering  insect  that  might  or 
might  not  have  a  sting.  A  woman  could 
not  possibly  think  lucidly ;  any  attempt  on 
her  part  to  deal  at  first  hand  with  the  prob 
lems  of  life  could  only  result  in  increased 
confusion ;  it  were  far  better  that  she  did 
not  meddle  with  edged  tools.  No  gift, 
spiritual  or  mental,  could  compensate  him 
for  the  absence  of  that  absolute  physical 
perfection  which  the  Kentuckian  seeks 
with  equal  pertinacity  in  his  sweetheart  and 
his  horse :  in  the  realization  of  which  he 
believes  "careful  grooming  "  to  play  a  part 
only  second  to  that  of  "good  blood." 
The  love  of  such  a  man  might  be  lack- 


42  In  "God's  Country." 

ing  in  poetry,  in  ideality,  even  in  the  "stay 
ing"  quality  he  considers  so  essential  to 
man  and  beast,  but  it  was  edged  with  the 
keen  relish  of  the  connoisseur,  which  was 
never  wholly  lost  in  the  lover.  Like  all  his 
countrymen,  Colonel  Ransome  subscribed 
loyally  to  the  belief  that  Kentucky  women 
lead  the  world  in  beauty ;  and  while  this 
opinion  was  attributable  in  a  measure  to  a 
natural  pride  in  the  products  of  his  native 
State,  it  was  not  without  an  element  of 
sound  philosophy.  Occupied  for  the 
greater  portion  of  his  life  with  the  care  and 
breeding  of  blooded  stock,  experience  had 
taught  him  the  power  of  selection  in 
accenting  a  type  when  exercised  through 
successive  generations  with  reference  10 
the  same  quality.  He  considered  the 
physical  perfection  of  Kentucky  women 
directly  due  to  the  fastidious  instinct  of 


In  "God's  Country"  43 

natural  selection  in  the  men,  which  made 
beauty  the  dominant  consideration  in  mar 
riage.  With  this  irresistible  influence  at 
work  in  the  interest  of  beauty  it  were 
indeed  singular  if  surpassing  results  were 
not  obtained.  He  frequently  remarked 
that  a  man  owed  it  to  his  children  to  marry 
a  fine  woman  ;  and  those  who  had  known 
his  wife  cheerfully  testified  that  he  had 
fully  discharged  his  obligation  to  posterity. 
Indeed,  his  daughter  Lydia  was  a  sufficient 
proof  of  the  possibilities  of  his  theory  when 
systematically  carried  out.  His  wife  died 
young;  he  had  been  spared  the  ordeal  of 
watching  her  fade  and  grow  old  ;  and  death 
and  time  had  obliterated  such  trifling 
imperfections  of  temperament  as  might 
have  jarred  his  domestic  harmony,  leaving 
only  the  charm  of  a  beautiful  and  gracious 
presence  that  was  his  one  sacred  memory. 


44  I*  "  God's  Country." 

Lydia  had  rewarded  his  discriminating 
choice  by  faithfully  reproducing  the  attrac 
tions  that  influenced  it.  Like  her  mother, 
she  had  that  fineness  of  organism  that  is 
the  first  requisite  of  beauty;  she  had  the 
same  exquisite  pearly  flesh-tint  that  is 
neither  pallid  nor  ruddy,  the  same  delicate 
arch  of  the  brow,  and  that  dark  shading  of 
brows  and  lashes  that  gives  a  peculiar 
piquancy  of  coloring  to  an  ensemble  other 
wise  purely  blond.  The  profile  that  gained 
a  subtle  individual  charm  by  its  deviation 
from  the  prescribed  line,  the  sensitive 
curve  of  the  nostrils,  the  full,  warm  mouth 
were  the  same ;  but  she  had  a  unique 
charm  of  her  own  imparted  by  the  temper 
of  the  paternal  metal.  She  reflected  her 
father's  salient  traits,  and  in  her  carriage, 
which  he  would  have  described  as  a  "free 
gait,"  there  was  a  dash  of  the  military 


In  "God's  Country  r  45 

erectness  and  precision  of  movement  that 
distinguished  his  own  bearing.  A  person 
ality  charged  with  a  fine  nervous  fire  and 
an  effervescent  flow  of  vitality  that  found 
expression  in  the  mobile  and  rapid  play  of 
features  registering  every  fleeting  thought, 
every  passing  emotion,  gave  to  her  that 
irresistible  sparkle  beside  which  the  dreamy 
languor  of  the  Oriental  becomes  dull,  the 
classic  repose  of  Greek  ideals  cold  and  im 
passive. 

The  red  gold  of  ripe  corn  was  on  her 
hair,  and  in  the  liquid  depths  of  her  eyes 
was  a  glow  of  rich,  warm  amber-brown  that 
is  most  nearly  approached  by  the  color  of 
fine  old  whisky.  She  shared  her  father's 
opinions,  and  endorsed  his  politics  with 
that  feminine  loyalty  that  is  the  more 
stanch  and  abiding  because  void  of  under 
standing.  She  did  not  know  why  her 


46  In  "God's  Country." 

father  was  a  Democrat,  but  she  was  quite 
sure  that  his  principles  were  the  only  ones 
that  could  be  entertained  by  a  gentleman, 
that  his  political  position  was  the  only  one 
tenable.  She  was  proud  of  his  military 
record.  It  surrounded  him  with  a  halo  of 
heroism,  a  glamour  of  romance  that  gave 
him  a  certain  sacredness  in  her  eyes.  She 
loved  to  think,  as  she  watched  him  riding 
across  his  own  peaceful  fields,  that  it  was 
thus,  with  just  as  little  fear,  with  the  same 
superb  horsemanship,  but  with  more  of  fire 
and  ardor,  he  had  ridden  at  the  enemy  in 
those  terrib  e  days  of  wreck  and  disaster. 
"  What  a  pity  it  had  all  been  for  nothing !  " 
At  this  thought  the  tears  would  come. 
The  gory  recital  of  "  Mission  Ridge  "  and 
Chickamauga  was  an  old  story  to  her,  but 
she  heard  it  always  with  a  heart  swelling 
with  the  admiration  of  physical  courage 


In  "  God's  Country."  47 

and  recklessness  of  life  that  had  come  to 
her  with  her  blood. 

The  third  contingent  of  the  Colonel's 
household,  the  negroes,  cut  a  conspicuous 
figure  in  his  fortunes.  Impoverished  by 
their  emancipation,  and  compelled  to  feed 
them  when  he  could  no  longer  compel 
them  to  work,  they  were  a  continual  drain 
upon  his  resources,  the  extent  of  which  he 
did  not  realize,  because  he  had  been  ac 
customed  all  his  life  to  seeing  them  around 
him  in  numbers,  and  considered  them  in 
dispensable  to  a  moderately  comfortable 
existence. 

His  obtuseness  to  the  immediate  de 
mand  for  remedial  measures  was  due  to 
two  causes  :  first,  to  the  necessity  for  labor 
of  some  kind  to  till  the  land  ;  second,  to 
an  inherent  love  of  ease  and  display,  fos 
tered  by  education  and  pampered  by 


48  In  "God's  Country." 

indulgence  until  it  had  become  the  pre 
dominating  influence  of  his  life.  The  long 
exemption  through  years  of  prosperity, 
when  personal  exertion  was  unnecessary, 
had  resulted  in  the  lofty  aloofness  from 
vulgar  occupations  that  had  become  second 
nature.  He  belonged  to  a  class  of  men 
whom  future  generations,  bred  in  an  atmos 
phere  of  new  ideas,  will  not  readily  un 
derstand.  Active,  determined,  fertile  in 
resource,  but  dominated  by  an  intense 
distaste  for  personal  exertion  ;  easily  fa 
tigued  under  ordinary  circumstances,  but 
displaying  in  an  emergency,,  through  sheer 
force  of  will,  surpassing  vigor  and  endur 
ance.  Not  given  to  athletic  sports,  yet 
compact,  well-grown,  and  muscular ;  bear 
ing  unmurmuringly  the  rigors  and  priva 
tions  of  war  that  try  men's  souls  more  than 
the  day  of  battle,  but  distinguished  in  time 


In  "  God's  Country."  49 

of  peace  for  an  insuperable  aversion  to 
effort  that  amounted  to  actual  helpless 
ness  ;  regarding  women  with  a  paternal 
indulgence  unlimited  in  certain  directions, 
yet  frequently  requiring  of  them  services 
no  longer  to  be  demanded  of  the  negroes, 
which  they  were  too  indolent  to  perform 
for  themselves. 

These  exactions  were  in  the  majority  of 
cases  unconscious.  The  man  who  made 
them  would  have  resented  vigorously  the 
imputation  that  he  was  pampered  by  the 
women  of  his  household  at  the  expense  of 
their  own  comfort.  He  invariably  pre 
served  the  old  formula.  "  Have  this  or 
that  done,"  he  would  remark  to  his  sister 
or  daughter,  oblivious  of  the  fact  that  now 
there  was  no  one  to  do  it  but  the  person 
audressed.  Never  at  any  time  was  there  a 
glimmer  of  suspicion  that  there  was  any- 


50  In  "  God's  Country" 

*hmg  in  his  behavior  at  variance  with  the 
cnivalric  sentiments  and  grandiloquent  ora 
tory  with  which  he  would  have  responded 
to  such  a  toast  as  "  The  Women  of  Ken 
tucky."  A  single  incident  of  Colonel  Ran- 
some's  daily  life  will  serve  to  illustrate  the 
demand  for  personal  attention  character 
istic  of  the  Kentuckian  of  this  period. 
His  morning  toilet  was  the  event  of  the 
day,  unless  the  repetition  of  it,  which  in 
warm  weather  always  occurred  at  noon, 
might  be  considered  of  equal  importance. 
The  water  for  the  bath  had  to  be  carried 
from  the  spring,  which  was  nearly  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  from  the  house.  In  order  to  get 
a  sufficient  quantity  within  a  reasonable 
time  several  negroes  were  engaged  in  the 
transportation  at  once.  The  toilet  proper 
was  an  elaborate  process,  performed  al 
ways  with  the  same  deliberate  precision, 


///  "God's  Country."  51 

during  which  the  master  of  the  house  was 
attended  by  half-a-dozen  negroes  of  both 
sexes  and  all  sizes,  in  the  various  capa 
cities  of  bootblack,  purveyors  of  towels, 
shaving  water,  and  fresh  linen,  not  to 
mention  the  boy  who  saddled  and  held  his 
horse  until  he  was  ready  to  mount,  or 
those  who  served  him  as  errand  boys  or 
bearers  of  messages  to  others  beyond  the 
reach  of  his  voice. 

A  grateful  relief  pervaded  the  premises 
when  the  ceremony  was  finished,  and 
"  Mahs  Wick,"  immaculate,  glowing,  and 
odorous  from  the  lavish  application  of 
soap,  passed  out,  leaving  behind  him  a 
room  so  thickly  strewn  with  limp  towels 
and  discarded  linen  that  it  looked  like  the 
track  of  a  cyclone.  A  stranger  would  have 
supposed  that  so  much  bustling  prepara 
tion  indicated  a  trip  to  town,  or  at  least  a 


52  In  "  God's  Country." 

ride  through  the  neighborhood,  and  would 
have  been  surprised  when  it  was  all  over  to 
see  the  Colonel  mount  his  sleek  gray  mare, 
groomed  as  if  for  a  premium  show,  and 
rack  off  to  the  field  to  superintend  the 
hands,  who,  accustomed  to  an  overseer, 
worked  only  under  his  personal  eye. 

In  addition  to  the  numerous  retinue  that 
served  about  the  house,  there  must  be 
field-hands  and  stable-hands,  and  the  habit 
ual  prodigality  was  displayed  in  the  num 
ber  employed.  The  extravagance  was  not, 
however,  wholly  without  excuse.  At  least 
three  negroes  were  required  to  do  the  work 
of  one  active,  energetic  white  man.  They 
had  to  be  paid  the  same,  and  they  ate  just 
as  much.  When  a  man  was  hired  to  work 
on  the  place,  he  had  to  be  furnished  with 
a  cabin  to  live  in  ;  his  fuel  came  from  the 
Colonel's  wood-pile  or  coal-house,  his  food 


In  "God's  Country."  53 

from  the  Colonel's  table  ;  and  it  was  sel 
dom  that  he  did  not  bring  a  family  with 
him.  Sometimes  the  women  worked  in  the 
house ;  oftener  they  did  nothing  more 
profitable  than  to  accumulate  with  exasper 
ating  ease  and  rapidity  a  worthless  brood 
that  fed,  like  grasshoppers,  on  the  fat  of 
the  land. 

Now  that  the  negroes  were  free  to 
choose  their  masters,  they  flocked  where 
there  was  the  fairest  promise  of  good  liv 
ing  ;  and  they  seemed  to  sniff  from  afar 
"  Mahs  Wick's  "  bounty  and  abundance. 
They  were  just  as  numerous  around  him 
as  they  had  been  before  the  war,  and  the 
only  difference  in  their  condition  was  an  in 
credible  increase  in  shiftlessness,  ragged- 
ness,  and  impertinence.  In  spite  of  their 
small  deserts,  Colonel  Ransome,  like  all 
men  who  had  owned  slaves,  had  a  weak- 


54  /«  "  God's  Country." 

ness  for  the  negro.  Naturally  generous,  he 
treated  them  with  an  indulgence  that  a 
Northern  employer  could  neither  under 
stand  nor  approve  ;  in  return  for  which  they 
plundered  his  "  truck  patch  "  and  clandes 
tinely  peddled  the  watermelons  they  were 
unable  to  consume.  When  his  attention 
was  called  to  the  number  of  mouths  fed 
daily  from  his  storeroom  and  smokehouse, 
he  replied  good-naturedly  :  "  If  you  don't 
give  them  what  they  can  eat,  they'll  steal 
it.  You  can't  get  out  of  feedin'  'em,  a-' 
you  might  as  well  have  'em  where  you  can 
get  some  good  out  of  'em." 

He  liked  to  see  them  about  him.  Their 
presence  in  numbers  accorded  with  the 
inherent  tendency  to  pomp  and  ostentation 
that  distinguished  his  class.  They  re 
minded  him  of  "  old  times,"  they  helped 
him  to  forget  the  humiliation  of  defeat,  the 


In  "God's  Country."  55 

outrage  of  emancipation  that  was  to  him 
nothing  more  than  a  violent  confiscation  of 
property.  It  was  some  small  consolation 
to  be  able  to  remark,  as  he  frequently  did, 
that,  "  In  spite  of  their  damned  meddling, 
things  were  not  so  very  different  after 
all." 


III. 

THE  remaining  factor  in  the  Colonel's 
destiny  was  the  friends,  who,  like  the  ne 
groes,  were  numerous  and  always  with  him. 
His  dinners  were  famous  in  a  land  cele 
brated  for  its  cuisine.  Nowhere  in  all  the 
Bluegrass  region  could  a  saddle  of  south 
down  mutton  be  found  in  such  juicy  perfec 
tion  as  on  Wick  Ransome's  table.  His 
cellar  contained  an  apparently  inexhaust 
ible  supply  of  native  wine ;  and  from  a 
long,  narrow  closet  in  the  dining-room  came 
forth,  on  special  occasions,  imported  varie 
ties  selected  with  the  discrimination  of  ex 
perience  and  a  fastidious  taste.  His  lavish 
hospitality,  his  love  of  good  company,  the 

seductive    atmosphere   of    abundance    un- 
56 


In  "-God's  Country''  57 

grudgingly  shared  that  surrounded  him, 
drew  about  him  the  remnant  of  ante-bellum 
society  that  had  survived  defeat  and  loss. 
His  house  became  the  centre  of  the  gay, 
brilliant  coterie  who  found  it  possible  to 
take  up  the  old  luxurious  life  where  they 
had  dropped  it  at  the  sound  of  "  boots  and 
saddles;  "  and  this  element  was  yearly  re 
inforced  by  the  natural  increase  of  the 
population,  and  the  incursion  of  visitors 
from  all  parts  of  the  country.  In  summer 
his  house  was  a  resort  to  which  his  city 
friends  flocked,  bringing  horses,  equipages, 
servants.  Any  man  or  woman  entitled  to 
the  friendship  of  a  gentleman  was  welcome 
to  come  and  sojourn  there  indefinitely,  and 
friends  brought  their  friends.  As  a  resort 
the  place  had  many  attractions  besides  the 
cellar,  the  well-filled  table,  and  the  deb 
onair  courtesy  of  the  host.  It  was  near 


58  In  "God's  Country." 

enough  to  the  Kentucky  River  for  a  party 
to  drive  down  and  back  in  a  day,  taking  a 
picnic  dinner  in  the  midst  of  wild  scenery 
of  unrivalled  picturesqueness ;  there  was 
the  Colonel's  handsome  daughter  to  pre 
side  over  the  festivities ;  the  Colonel's 
horses  always  at  the  free  disposal  of  his 
guests ;  his  fish-pond,  from  which,  even  in 
midsummer,  could  be  drawn  the  savory 
perch  and  newlight  that  nobody  could  fry 
quite  so  appetizmgly  as  old  Cynthy,  the 
Colonel's  cook. 

No  one  enjoyed  these  annual  invasions 
of  his  premises  more  than  the  Colonel. 
Each  member  of  the  throng  that  gathered 
around  him  felt  a  sort  of  proud  proprie 
torship  in  "  Wick." 

His  fine,  commanding  figure,  his  hand 
some  face  radiating  good-fellowship,  his 
identification  with  the  cause  lost  but  rev- 


In  "God's  Country.'"  59 

erently  remembered,  endeared  him  to 
them.  He  was  a  splendid  expression  of 
the  type  of  manhood  they  admired ;  he 
was  one  with  them  in  their  pride  of 
ancestry,  their  race  prejudice,  their  views 
of  government ;  he  represented  them  in 
every  phase  of  their  life,  social  and  polit 
ical.  This  feeling  was  made  apparent  to 
him  in  a  thousand  flatteries — open  and 
insidious.  He  lived  in  an  atmosphere  of. 
adulation,  gratifying  to  his  inborn  love  of 
supremacy,  that  finally  became  as  neces 
sary  to  him  as  the  attendance  of  his 
servants. 

The  worm  in  the  bud  of  this  gay,  impe 
rious  life  was  the  mortgage  and  the  debts 
that  every  year  became  more  and  more  of 
an  incubus.  Colonel  Ransome  could  not 
understand  how  it  was  that,  with  four 
hundred  acres  of  the  best  land  in  the 


6o  ///  "  God's  Country." 

State,  yielding  abundantly  every  year,'  and 
the  annual  sale  of  stock,  from  which  he 
realized  thousands  of  dollars,  he  could 
not  "  make  both  ends  meet."  Why  the 
profits  of  his  farm  and  stable  did  not  cover 
the  expense  of  his  establishment  was  a 
problem  with  which  he  grappled  in  vain. 
It  would  be  just  as  far  from  practical  solu 
tion  on  the  last  day  of  his  life  as  in  the 
hour  it  first  confronted  him.  If  he  saw  the 
necessity  for  curtailing  expenses,  he  never 
found  the  precise  time  or  place  for  putting 
on  the  brakes.  If  it  occurred  to  him  that 
the  negroes  who  drained  him  and  the 
friends  who  visited  him  were  partially  re 
sponsible  for  the  inadequacy  of  his  income, 
he  turned  wearily  from  the  thought  as 
from  an  evil  without  remedy.  If  it  was 
bad  getting  on  with  the  negroes,  getting 
on  without  them  was  impossible.  The 


///  "  God's  Country"  61 

alternative  of  restricting  himself  to  a  rigid 
schedule  of  economy  that  would  exclude 
his  friends  from  a  free  participation  in  his 
abundance  and  his  pleasures  was  so  re 
pulsive  to  his  feelings,  his  taste,  his  con 
ception  of  hospitality,  that  he  did  not 
entertain  it  for  a  moment.  The  few 
friends  who  thought  they  discerned,  be 
neath  the  purple  and  fine  linen  of  high  life, 
the  spectre  of  impending  bankruptcy,  re 
marked  commiseratingly  to  each  other 
that  "  It  was  a  pity  Wick  did  not  manage 
better,"  and  came  down  the  next  summer 
and  preyed  upon  him  as  usual. 

Years  before,  the  Colonel  had  cast  a  hope* 
ful  eye  on  young  Beverly  Johnson,  whose 
ample  estate  joined  his  own.  If  Beverly 
should  marry  Lydia,  he  could  save  her 
inheritance  from  the  hammer-  and  for  a 
long  time  her  father  had  been  unable  to 


62  In  "  God's  Country." 

see  any  other  way  out  of  the  slough  into 
which  he  had  been  steadily  ploughing  since 
1865.  The  thing  had  come  about  as  he, 
desired — in  a  perfectly  simple  and  natural 
way,  and  without  any  interference  on  his 
part.  Beverly  and  Lydia  had  grown  up 
together,  had  seen  each  other  every  day  of 
their  lives,  except  when  she  was  at  school 
and  he  at  college,  during  which  period 
they  had  carried  on  a  mildly  amatory  cor 
respondence.  The  brief  courtship  that 
followed  their  return  ended  in  a  formal 
-proposal  by  Beverly,  who,  from  the  first 
moment  of  their  reunion,  had  been  in  a 
condition  bordering  on  dementia,  and  its 
acceptance  by  Lydia,  who  made  up  for  any 
lack  of  demonstrative  fervor  by  a  steady 
graciousness  of  demeanor. 

To  her  it  seemed  a  matter  of  course  that 
she  should  marry  Bev.     Next  to  her  father 


In  "God's  Country  r  63 

he  was  the  handsomest  man  she  knew. 
She  sometimes  wished  he  were  an  inch 
taller  and  had  something  of  her  father's 
imperial  manner  and  martial  dash.  But 
men  like  her  father  were  rare,  and  Bev 
was  nearer  the  realization  of  her  concep 
tion  of  manhood  than  anyone  else  within 
the  range  of  her  acquaintance,  which  was 
extensive.  She  would  have  liked  him 
better  had  he  been  a  part  of  that  heroic 
struggle  that  raised  her  father  above  ordi 
nary  men  in  her  eyes,  but  it  was  Bev's 
misfortune,  not  his  fault,  that  he  had  been 
too  young  to  fight.  He  had  often  ex 
pressed  regret  that  he  had  not  been  old 
enough  to  take  a  hand  in  that  strife,  none 
tne  less  glorious  in  his  estimation  because 
the  event  was  dire.  She  was  sure  he 
would  have  made  a  brave  soldier  if  he  had 
had  a  chance  ;  and  he  was  the  pick  of  the 


64  In  "  God's  Country." 

country,  everybody  knew  that.  Because 
she  considered  him  the  pick  of  the  country 
she  had  always  intended  marrying  him. 
This  intention,  which  had  never  wavered, 
dated  back  to  her  remotest  remembrance. 
During  the  naive  period  of  childhood  she 
had  frequently  advised  him  of  it,  and  it 
apparently  met  with  his  approval,  though 
he  manifested  none  of  the  enthusiasm  that 
marked  the  subsequent  interval,  through 
which  Lydia  maintained  a  wary  reserve 
that  led  him  to  believe  she  had  changed 
her  mind. 

It  had  never  occurred  to  her  that  in  the 
course  of  events  he  might  form  other 
plans.  Had  the  thought  ever  come  to  her, 
she  had  enough  of  her  father's  debonair 
confidence,  and  was  sufficiently  conscious 
of  her  personal  advantages,  to  dismiss  it 
without  serious  consideration,  Though 


In  "  God's  Country."  65 

fond  of  him,  her  feeling  was  not  of  a 
character  to  disturb  the  even  flow  of  her 
existence  ;  and  she  had  always  been  too 
well  assured  of  his  devotion  to  experience 
the  thrill  of  triumph  in  its  consummation 
that  other  women  enjoy  under  similar  cir 
cumstances. 

In  due  time  the  lover,  floating  airily  on 
the  conviction  that  no  other  man  had  been 
so  lucky  since  the  rite  of  marriage  was  in 
stituted,  came  to  talk  the  affair  over  with 
his  father-in-law-elect.  It  was  now  that 
Colonel  Ransome  inflicted  upon  himself 
the  crucifixion  of  making  a  clean  breast  of 
the  supposed  secret  of  his  impending  ruin. 
Beverly  was  not  surprised.  He  was  not 
blind  :  he  had  seen  long  before  where  all  that 
reckless  extravagance  must  lead.  The  end 
was  a  little  nearer  than  he  thought,  but  it 
—"•de  no  difference  in  his  plans.  He 


66  In  "  God's  Country." 

would  be  just  as  proud  of  Lyd,  he 
affirmed,  if  she  hadn't  a  cent.  He  had 
reached  that  beatific  state  in  which  a  man 
wants  to  take  the  world  in  his  arms  and 
kiss  it,  and  a  national  panic  could  not  have 
subdued  his  ardor.  In  a  burst  of  generos 
ity  he  proposed  to  take  up  the  mortgage 
at  once  and  relieve  the  Colonel  from  all 
further  anxiety. 

"You  see,  Colonel,"  remarked  the 
young  man,  sagely,  "it  was  bound  to  come, 
with  those  bloods  livin'  off  you  all  summer 
and  the  darkies  thievin'  from  you  the  year 
round.  But  you  couldn't  help  it.  You 
can't  get  rid  of  the  niggers,  and  a  man 
can't  ask  his  friends  to  stay  at  home.  It 
will  all  be  right,  though.  What  I've  got  is 
yours  if  you  want  it ;  and  you  can  depend 
on  me  not  to  let  the  place  go  out  of  the 
family.  I've  had  too  many  good  times  here 


In  "God's  Country."  67 

myself  to  want   to  see  it  in  the  ban's   of 
strangers." 

From  no  other  man  could  Colonel  Ran- 
some  have  accepted  such  material  consola 
tion  without  the  bitterest  humiliation.  But 
Bev  was  like  his  own  son.  He  had  spent 
almost  as  much  of  his  time  at  the  Colonel's 
house  as  he  had  at  his  own.  His  father 
had  been  the  Colonel's  classmate  at  col 
lege,  his  companion-in-arms.  There  had 
been  no  stancher  friend,  no  braver  soldier, 
than  Hardin  Johnson ;  there  was  no 
brighter  record  in  all  that  weary  struggle 
than  his.  When  he  fell  in  battle,  it  was 
to  Wickliffe  Ransome  that  he  confided  his 
dying  messages ;  and  the  Colonel  had 
always  shown  an  indulgent  fondness  for 
the  son  of  so  dear  a  friend,  so  valiant  a 
soldier,  even  before  he  began  to  regard 
him  as  a  possible  solution  of  his  domestic 


68  In  "God's  Country." 

problem.  This  affectionate  interest  was 
fully  returned  by  the  younger  man,  for 
whom  his  father's  friend  and  comrade 
embodied  at  once  the  dignity  and  heroism 
of  a  supreme  struggle  and  the  profound 
pathos  of  defeat.  He  had  early  discov 
ered  the  weak  spot  in  the  Colonel's  char 
acter,  but  loyally  refrained  from  judging 
him.  As  the  victim  of  Northern  interfer 
ence,  he  was  entitled  to  indulgence  and 
sympathy,  and  Bev  was  as  full  of  excuses 
for  him  as  Lydia  herself  could  have  been 
had  she  been  capable  of  divining  the  ne 
cessity  for  them. 

At  the  close  of  the  interview  that  termi 
nated  with  Beverly's  generous  proposition, 
Colonel  Ransome  immediately  sought  his 
daughter,  resolved  to  make  an  unreserved 
statement  of  the  situation,  and  give  Bev 
the  full  benefit  of  his  handsome  behavior. 


In  "  God's  Country."  69 

He  admired  the  young  fellow's  contempt 
for  money,  the  youthful  ardor  and  loverlike 
enthusiasm  with  which  he  set  his  sweet 
heart  above  everything,  in  an  age  when 
young  men  were  beginning  to  sacrifice 
their  instinctive  preference  for  beauty  on 
the  altar  of  greed.  Miss  Ransome  lis 
tened  to  her  father's  recital  without  com 
ment.  In  one  aspect  the  situation  waa 
humiliating ;  in  another,  extremely  flatter 
ing;  but  she  could  not  fully  appreciate  it 
from  either  point  of  view.  "  It  was  nice  of 
Bev,"  but  it  was  no  more  than  was  to  be 
expected  of  the  man  she  had  honored  with 
her  preference.  She  did  not  know  enough 
of  the  value  of  money  to  measure  the  fi 
nancial  obligation  ;  and  the  privations  en 
tailed  by  the  absence  of  wealth  were  too 
remote  from  her  experience  for  her  to 
realize  what  he  had  saved  her  from.  She 


70  In  "  God's  Country" 

could  not  apprehend,  so  acutely  as  her 
father,  all  that  was  involved  in  the  sale  of 
an  estate.  To  him  it  meant  much  more 
than  the  mere  loss  of  property,  though  that 
was  sufficiently  appalling  to  a  man  of  his 
tastes  and  habits.  It  meant  exile  from  the 
only  country  in  which  living  could  be  a 
pleasure ;  it  meant  the  abdication  of  the 
enviable  position  he  held  in  the  commu 
nity  ;  it  meant  the  immediate  and  perma 
nent  cessation  of  the  ostentatious  hospital 
ity  for  which  he  was  noted.  These  harrow 
ing  possibilities  were  now  removed ;  the 
incubus  was  lifted  ;  and  he  at  least  was  not 
likely  to  undervalue  the  opportune  gener 
osity  that  had  rescued  him. 

It  was  now  April ;  Lydia  and  Beverly 
were  to  be  married  in  October,  and  the 
Colonel's  face  was  less  sternly  thoughtful 
in  moments  of  repose  than  it  had  been  for 


In  "God's  Country:'  71 

years.  The  usual  swarm  of  summer  visit 
ors  was  expected,  and  preparations  for 
their  entertainment  were  going  steadily  for 
ward.  This  would  be  the  last  summer 
Lydia  would  preside  as  hostess  over  the 
festivities  of  the  dashing,  convivial  throng 
of  "  blue-bloods  "  that  gathered  annually 
around  her  father's  table.  She  would  not 
have  been  his  daughter  had  she  not  en 
joyed  her  position  ;  and  a  Southern  girl  at 
that  age  enjoys  everything.  She  knows 
that  her  social  career  is  practically  finished 
when  she  marries,  and  she  marries  very 
young. 

She  keenly  realizes  the  exceeding  brev 
ity  of  that  delicious  interregnum  between 
the  authority  of  the  parent  and  that  of  the 
husband.  She  knows  that  her  social  rec 
ord  must  be  made  before  it  is  over ;  that 
she  abdicates  her  belleship  with  her  nuptial 


72  In  "  God's  Country" 

vows ;  that,  owing  to  the  strict  code  obtain 
ing  in  her  country,  marriage,  to  her,  is  like 
death  to  the  unconverted — it  admits  of  no 
subsequent  capitulation.  The  determination 
to  wring  this  brief  interval  dry  of  enjoy 
ment,  the  unwearying  effort  to  get  at  the 
last  sweet  drop,  give  her  an  eager  zest  of  life 
that  makes  her  an  unfailing  stimulant  to 
all  who  come  in  contact  with  her,  keep  her 
strung  up  to  a  pitch  of  enthusiasm  that  is 
irresistibly  infectious.  She  has  no  time  to 
discriminate  ;  everything  pleases  her ;  she 
is  never  tired,  never  bored.  She  blooms 
like  a  cactus — all  at  once.  Her  ddbut  is 
like  the  popping  of  a  champagne  cork. 
She  imparts  the  effervescent  sparkle  of  that 
incomparable  vintage  to  the  current  with 
which  she  mingles  ;  she  falls  upon  the  dull 
and  colorless  conventions  of  society  like  a 
flash  of  irridescence ;  with  her  volatile,  in- 


In  "  God's  Country."  73 

exhaustible  flow  of  animal  spirits  she  com 
bines,  within  certain  limits,  an  impetuous 
abandon  that  makes  her  the  nearest  ap 
proach  yet  discovered  to  the  "  Eve  inno 
cent,  yet  fallen  "  of  Chateaubriand.  Be 
fore  she  has  time  to  lose  the  fire  and  fresh 
ness  of  youth  she  is  hurried  away  to  the 
priest,  and  disappears  from  the  horizon 
amid  the  gorgeous  blazonry  of  an  elaborate 
wedding,  a  ceremony  through  which  the 
groom  moves  meekly  inconspicuous,  as 
might  some  antique  captive  through  the 
pomp  and  pageantry  of  a  Roman  triumph. 
From  that  moment  she  is  a  vanished  de 
light,  a  departed  glory,  a  hallowed  tradition 
to  the  men  who  did  not  achieve  the  sublime 
happiness  of  marrying  her;  but  she  is  a 
queen  no  more.  The  allegiance,  the  hom 
age  she  formerly  commanded  are  trans 
ferred  without  loss  of  time,  and  she  is  ever 


74  In  "  God's  Country." 

after  spoken  of  in  the  past  tense.  The 
average  length  of  a  career  is  three  years  ; 
more  frequently  it  is  but  two ;  often  but 
one.  This  was  Miss  Ransome's  third  sum 
mer,  and  her  last.  She  intended  it  to  be  a 
brilliant  one. 


IV. 

IT  is  only  fair  to  exonerate  Miss  Ran- 
some  from  the  suspicion  of  posing  on  the 
lawn  for  effect.  She  had  gone  there  with 
the  most  commonplace  purpose  imaginable 
— that  of  drying  the  hair  she  had  just 
washed,  in  the  wind  and  sun.  This 
method  involved  much  less  labor  than  rub 
bing  it  dry  with  a  towel,  and  it  gave  her  an 
opportunity  to  finish  at  the  same  time  the 
novel  she  had  been  reading  in  a  desultory 
way  for  a  week.  She  felt  perfectly  secure 
on  the  lawn  in  a  pink  wrapper  in  the 
middle  of  the  afternoon,  for  the  dweller  in 
the  country  is  not  subject  to  the  unexpected 
calls  that  make  urban  life  a  bondage. 
There  was  barely  one  chance  in  a  hundred 
75 


76  In  "  God's  Country." 

that  she  would  be  interrupted,  and  the 
hundredth  chance  had  befallen.  Upon  re 
flection  she  feared  she  had  presented  a 
very  ungraceful,  not  to  say  immodest,  fig 
ure  in  the  hammock.  She  would  have 
given  much  to  know  just  how  she  appeared 
to  the  intruder,  though  he  was  only  a 
tramp.  She  blushed  as  she  remembered 
the  exposed  foot  and  ankle ;  and  that  night, 
as  she  stood  before  the  mirror  combing 
out  the  tangled  mass  of  hair,  she  was 
haunted  by  an  echo  of  that  plaintive 
"  Liebchen,  hore  mich."  She  had  not 
lighted  the  lamp,  for  the  moon  flooded  the 
room  ;  and  when  she  had  finished  her  hair, 
she  sat  down  in  the  rocker  by  the  window 
and  looked  out  upon  the  moonlit  garden 
and  the  blossomy  orchard  slope  beyond. 

For  the  first  time  in  her  life  something 
like  a  regret  for  the  narrow  limits  of  her 


In  "  God's  Country."  77 

experience  stirred  in  her;  but  the  want, 
whatever  it  might  be,  was  intangible  and 
undefined.  What  was  the  world  like  out 
side  this  "garden  spot" — the  world  from 
which  he  had  come  with  his  soft,  pleading 
voice,  and  his  never-to-be-forgotten  song? 
Where  and  to  whom  would  he  next  sing  it 
in  payment  for  a  dinner  ? 

The  next  morning,  as  Lydia  and  her 
father  sat  at  breakfast,  the  latter  remarked  : 

"  Well,  Lyd,  I've  got  you  a  gardener  at 
last.  He  don't  look  like  he  is  much  ac 
count  ;  but  if  you  watch  him  close  enough, 
maybe  you  can  make  him  do  till  old  Dave 
gets  well.  I  met  him  in  the  road  last  night 
as  I  came  home,  and  he  asked  for  work. 
The  po'  devil  looked  so  hard  up  I  thought 
I'd  give  him  a  chance." 

M  We  need  somebody  in  the  garden  awful 
bad,"  replied  Lydia.  "  When's  he  comin'?" 


78  In  "  God's  Country." 

"  He's  here  now.  I  brought  him  along 
with  me  in  the  buggy,  an'  told  him  he 
could  sleep  in  Schneider's  cabin." 

"  He's  white,  then." 

"  Yes,  and  Dutch  as  kraut.  I  told  him 
to  go  round  to  the  garden  as  soon  as  he 
got  his  breakfast,  an'  you'd  give  him  his 
orders." 

It  was  a  warm,  bright  morning,  the  sort 
of  day  that,  coming  early  in  spring,  fills  the 
amateur  florist  with  feverish  activity;  and 
as  soon  as  breakfast  was  over,  Lydia, 
happy  in  the  knowledge  that  at  last  she 
had  somebody  to  do  Mrhat  was  so  needed, 
hurried  out  in  the  pink  wrapper  of  yester 
day  and  an  ample  sun-bonnet  to  pounce 
greedily  on  the  new  man,  and  get  as  much 
as  possible  out  of  him  in  the  shortest  space 
ot  time.  The  portion  set  apart  for  flowers 
was  the  lower  end  of  the  garden  proper  ;  a 


In  "  God's  Country:'  79 

large  square  of  ground  running  up  into  the 
angle  formed  by  the  L  of  the  house  and 
laid  off  geometrically,  in  beds  with  blue- 
grass  borders,  and  earthen  walks  between. 
In  the  center  stood  a  circular  frame  cov 
ered  with  a  mat  of  honeysuckle,  offering  a 
refreshing  shelter  from  the  sun,  which  was 
getting  very  hot.  She  drew  a  rustic  seat 
into  the  shadow  and  waited.  In  a  few 
minutes  she  heard  the  click  of  the  garden 
gate,  and,  looking  up,  saw  the  tramp  of 
yesterday  approaching  leisurely,  a  knot  of 
pink  ribbon  in  his  button-hole.  The  blood 
surged  up  into  her  temples  as  she  remarked 
his  decoration  and  noted  the  exact  spot 
upon  her  gown  from  which  it  had  disap 
peared.  By  this  time  he  had  reached  her 
and  had  bared  his  fine  head  with  the  in 
imitable  gesture  that  had  won  him  his  din 
ner  the  day  before.  For  some  reason  it 


8o  In  "  God's  Country." 

did  not  impress  her  now  as  then.  The 
pink  ribbon  that  would  have  been  a  roman 
tic  and  inoffensive  fancy  in  a  picturesque 
vagabond  who  was  nothing  to  her  was 
egregious  presumption  in  her  servant,  and 
she  resented  it.  Moreover,  she  was  ex 
tremely  mortified  at  having  spent  an  after 
noon  in  rearing  a  dream  palace  about  a 
person  "  as  Dutch  as  kraut,"  in  whom  her 
father  had  instantly  recognized  "  a  po' 
devil,"  and  nothing  more  ;  whom  her  father 
held  in  that  compassionate  contempt  that 
was  more  damning  than  denunciation. 

She  understood  perfectly  that  the  only 
thing  to  do  was  to  ignore  the  decoration  ; 
but  the  chill  of  November  was  in  her  man 
ner  as  she  rose  and  proceeded  to  give  di 
rections  in  a  cold,  peremptory  tone  she 
never  thought  of  using  to  the  negroes.  He 
stood  meanwhile  hat  in  hand,  his  attitude 


In  "  God's  Country."  81 

the  supreme  expression  of  respectful  atten 
tion.  He  was  not  looking  at  her,  but  she 
could  just  catch  a  gleam  in  his  eye  that 
contradicted,  effaced  his  assumption  of 
humility.  It  first  puzzled,  then  annoyed 
her,  until  her  eye  chanced  to  fall  upon  the 
bosom  of  her  dress,  where,  withered,  for 
gotten,  but  clamorous  of  injudicious  inter 
est,  drooped  the  violets  she  had  picked  up 
from  the  step.  The  blood  mounted  again 
under  the  sun-bonnet,  but  she  went  on  giv 
ing  her  orders,  and  presently  unfastened 
the  flowers,  and  tossed  them  carelessly 
where  he  could  not  fail  to  see  them.  When 
he  began  work  she  went  back  to  the  rustic 
seat  under  the  honeysuckle,  and  sat  watch 
ing  him  from  the  shadow.  She  was  ill  at 
ease.  The  illusions  of  yesterday  had  been 
rudely  dissipated  :  the  romantic  vagabond 
had  sunk  to  the  level  of  a  common  laborer ; 


8  2  In  "  God's  Country." 

the  troubadour  was  extinguished  in  the 
Dutchman  who  had  slept  in  the  cabin  with 
Schneider.  Had  he  belonged  to  any  other 
nationality  it  would  not  have  been  so  bad. 
She  had  seen  but  few  Germans,  and  those 
of  the  lowest  class.  There  was  no  room  in 
her  narrow  experience  for  comparison,  for 
discrimination.  Schneider  had  been  there 
a  year,  and  he  had  been  treated  in  all  re 
spects  as  one  of  the  negroes,  except  that  in 
consideration  of  his  white  skin  he  had  been 
given  a  bed  to  himself  and  allowed  to  eat 
at  the  Colonel's  table  after  the  family  were 
through.  Even  the  negroes  looked  down 
upon  a  "white  nigga."  The  condition  of 
servitude  was  the  paramount  fact  that  fixed 
a  man's  place  in  the  social  scale ;  but  a 
white  servant  was  an  anomaly,  a  foreigner 
was  an  uncertain  quantity  in  the  social 
equation,  he  was  not  quite  as  good  as  a 


In  "  God's  Country."  83 

negro.  This  man  was  Schneider's  country 
man  and  fellow-servant,  and  she  had  worn 
his  violets,  and  he  had  seen  them.  He  was 
not  like  Schneider.  She  knew  that  as  well 
to-day  as  she  did  yesterday ;  but  it  could 
make  no  difference  so  long  as  he  was  her 
father's  servant.  She  was  humiliated  by 
his  discovery  of  the  interest  she  had  felt  in 
him  the  day  before,  and  she  decided  that 
his  immediate  dismissal  was  the  only  thing 
that  could  reinstate  her  in  her  own  estima 
tion. 

She  had  been  so  occupied  with  these 
thoughts  that,  although  looking  directly  at 
him,  she  had  not  noticed  that  he  was 
ruthlessly  spading  up  the  young  seedling 
verbenas  she  had  intended  transplanting. 
She  saw  it  now  and  rushed  fiercely  to  the 
rescue,  glad  of  an  opportunity  to  find 
fault  with  another  than  herself. 


84  In  "  God's  Country." 

"You  are  buryin'  all  my  verbenas," 
she  called,  in  a  tone  of  vexation. 

"  W'ich  is  dose  ?  "  he  asked  humbly,  and 
the  voice  was  irresistibly  softening. 

"  These  with  the  rough  leaves,"  she 
replied,  taking  a  trowel,  with  which  she 
began  digging  them  up  out  of  his  way. 

He  examined  the  plant  closely,  and 
then  with  another  trowel  began  digging, 
and  did  not  attempt  to  use  the  spade 
again  until  sure  there  was  not  another 
verbena  in  the  bed. 

After  this  experience  she  dared  not 
leave  him  alone  in  the  garden.  She 
stayed  by  him  all  day,  jealously  watching 
every  movement  of  spade  or  hoe.  He 
was  so  obliging,  so  eager  to  please,  so 
remorseful  for  the  plants  irrecoverably 
buried,  that  she  could  but  pardon  his 
ignorance.  This  was  the  more  easily 


In  "  God's  Country."  85 

done  as  the  day  wore  on,  and  there  was 
nothing  after  that  one  unguarded  glance 
to  remind  her  of  the  unbecoming  interest 
she  had  inadvertently  betrayed.  The  pink 
ribbon  was  still  in  view,  but  after  a  time 
she  did  not  notice  that.  His  name  was 
Karl,  and  she  thought  it  had  a  pretty 
sound  when  he  pronounced  it.  His  voice 
was  as  winning  when  he  spoke  as  when  he 
sang.  She  liked  to  hear  him  talk  ;  and 
when  the  irritation  of  the  morning  began 
to  wear  off,  she  kept  him  answering 
questions,  that  she  might  be  amused  by 
his  doubtful  struggle  with  a  strange 
tongue.  The  peculiar  modulation  of  his 
voice,  the  softening  of  the  consonants,  the 
lingual  caress  on  certain  vowels,  his  odd 
application  of  the  words  themselves,  were 
as  ingratiating  as  the  imperfect  utterance 
of  a  child.  Her  English  was  no  better 


86  In  "God's  Country." 

than  his,  though  it  was  different,  and  she 
did  not  have  a  monopoly  of  amusement. 
What  he  knew  of  the  language  he  had 
learned  according  to  the  stiff  and  formal 
manner  of  books,  and  her  idioms,  her 
provincialisms,  her  continual  slurring  of 
consonants  when  she  did  not  drop  them 
altogether,  as  she  invariably  did  at  the 
end  of  a  word  or  syllable,  the  blurring  of 
vowels  and  the  substituting  of  one  vowel 
sound  for  another, — presented  a  unique 
variation  of  speech  that  seemed  to  occupy 
a  middle  ground  between  the  language 
proper  and  the  dialect  spoken  by  the 
negroes.  He  wondered  whether  she  would 
be  able  to  read  it  were  it  spelled  out  to  her 
phonetically, '  and  finally  decided  that  she 
would  not ;  but  it  was  not  unpleasant  to 
hear  as  she  uttered  it,  with  her  soft  intona 
tion  and  lingering  drawl. 


In  "  God's  Country."  87 

Karl  worked  much  more  briskly  than 
old  Dave ;  and  Lydia,  surprised  when 
night  came  at  what  he  had  accomplished, 
determined  to  keep  him  till  the  end  of  the 
week,  by  which  time  they  might  find  some 
one  else.  She  hovered  about  him  contin 
ually,  in  the  fear  of  further  depredation  to 
her  flowers  ;  but  he  was  so  careful,  dis 
played  so  much  energy,  such  marvellous 
quickness  in  learning,  so  much  obliging 
readiness,  and  was  withal  so  apparently 
oblivious  of  the  initial  incident  of  their 
acquaintance  during  those  days  of  proba 
tion,  that,  when  the  end  of  the  week  came, 
she  had  decided  that  he  might  stay  until 
the  garden  was  all  in.  In  the  first  shock 
of  dicosvery  she  had  unduly  magnified  a 
circumstance  that  was  beneath  her  notice. 
She  saw  it  now  in  its  real  significance, 
which  was  slight,  and  she  knew  it  was  not 


88  In  "  God's  Country  r 

likely  they  would  find  anyone  who  would 
do  better  than  he.  There  was  no  telling 
when  old  Dave  would  be  well  enough 
to  go  to  work  \.  he  was  not  worth  much  at 
his  best;  and  they  were  already  much 
behind  with  the  kitchen-garden,  which  in 
summer  was  the  principal  source  of  sup 
ply. 

Lydia's  enthusiasm  in  the  culture  of 
flowers  amounted  to  a  passion.  With  most 
women,  flowers  are  either  a  sentiment  or  a 
decoration.  To  Lydia  they  were  living 
things,  each  one  of  which  had  a  biography. 
She  knew  every  plant  in  her  collection 
intimately,  and  remembered  where  and 
when  it  had  come  into  her  possession. 
Many  of  them  she  had  bought  at  the 
greenhouses,  but  there  were  others  which 
combined  the  sentimental  associations  of 
a  souvenir  with  the  zest  and  pleasure 


In  "God's  Country"  89 

incidental  to  acquiring  a  new  variety. 
When  presented  with  a  bouquet,  she 
searched  it  carefully  to  see  if  it  contained 
anything  she  did  not  have.  If  it  did,  the 
slips  were  stuck  down  somewhere  to  grow. 
She  was  remarkably  successful,  and  was 
proud  of  her  garden,  which  was  her  chief 
occupation  and  keenest  pleasure.  It  en 
gaged  her  to  the  exclusion  of  the  men 
agerie  of  pets  upon  which  girls  of  her  age 
usually  fritter  away  their  time  and  the 
emotional  activity  of  adolescence.  Its 
interest  could  not  be  fathomed  by  one 
ignorant  of  the  subject  or  less  enthusiastic 
than  herself.  The  fancy  was  not  an  inex 
pensive  one ;  but  her  father,  who  took  a 
pride  in  denying  her  nothing  that  money 
could  procure,  humored  it  as  he  had  once 
humored  a  similar  fancy  in  the  direction  of 
music.  As  Lyd's  hobby  he  looked  upon 


90  In  "  God's  Country" 

it  with  benign  tolerance ,  but  Dave  was 
not  so  indulgent.  He  regarded  the  flower 
garden  as  a  nuisance  and  an  imposition, 
since  it  added  to  his  labors  and  brought 
no  return  that  he  could  appreciate.  His 
indignation,  when  first  informed  that  he 
would  be  expected  to  attend  to  it,  was 
boundless  ;  and  though  he  did  not  openly 
rebel  he  maintained  from  first  to  last  an 
attitude  of  sullen  reluctance  that  was  a 
continual  trial  to  Lydia  and  acted  like  a 
cold  compress  on  her  enthusiasm.  Noth 
ing  could  have  recommended  the  new 
gardener  more  effectively  than  the  cheerful 
activity  he  displayed  in  this  particular  spot, 
dear  to  her  heart  but  despised  of  all  men. 
The  sympathy  and  the  ardor  he  manifested 
in  the  pursuit  of  his  occupation  were  a  con 
tinual  surprise  and  delight  to  her.  She 
could  not  understand  it.  In  a  community 


In  "  God's  Country."  91 

where  labor  still  had  all  the  terror  of  the 
primeval  curse,  it  seemed  marvellous  that 
a  man  should  take  pleasure  in  anything 
involving  toil.  She  liked  to  work  in  the 
garden  ;  but  then  the  flowers  were  hers, 
and  when  she  did  not  want  to  work  she 
could  be  idle.  It  was  different  with  Karl. 
The  vegetable  garden  claimed  a  large  part 
of  his  time,  especially  as  they  were  a  Mttle 
later  than  usual  getting  it  in.  Some 
times  for  several  days  together  he  would 
be  engaged  there,  and  if,  after  he  had 
finished  his  day's  work,  she  called  on  him 
to  water  the  flowers,  not  without  some 
slight  compunction,  he  responded  with  a 
smiling  alacrity  that  almost  took  her 
breath.  He  was  never  too  tired  to  serve 
her  ;  it  was  never  too  early  in  the  morning 
or  too  late  at  night  for  her  to  command  him 
to  the  utmost  extent  of  his  ability.  When 


92  In  "  God's  Country" 

she  repeatedly  changed  her  mind  about 
the  filling  of  a  basket  or  the  laying-off  of  a 
bed,  he  addressed  himself  to  the  one- 
hundreth  whim  with  the  same  smiling 
assiduity  that  had  distinguished  his  first 
attempt.  She  had  never  seen  anything 
like  it  in  her  life.  It  was  beyond  her  com 
prehension,  but  it  was  intensely  gratifying; 
and  in  addition  to  its  practical  value,  his 
willingness  had  the  engaging  interest  of  a 
new  study.  She  found  too  that  he  could 
talk  intelligently  about  flowers,  and  that 
he  liked  to  talk  about  them.  This  was  a 
pleasure  she  had  never  before  enjoyed. 
She  had  no  means  of  knowing  whether 
this  enthusiasm  was  real  or  assumed  She 
could  not  know  that  he  would  have  shown 
the  same  absorbing  interest  in  pig-iron  had 
she  chosen  to  discuss  it  with  him  ;  but  she 
did  observe  that  frequently,  in  an  animated 


In  "  God's  Country."  93 

debate  about  a  plant  or  a  plan,  the  arbi 
trary  distinction  of  mistress  and  servant 
seemed  to  melt  away. 

One  of  Lydia's  horticultural  triumphs 
was  the  fern-bed,  which  filled  the  angle 
formed  by  the  L  °f  the  house.  Most  per 
sons  found  ferns  difficult  to  manage,  and, 
after  one  or  two  ineffectual  attempts  to 
transplant  them,  gave  them  up.  But  Lydia 
persisted,  and  finally  stumbled  on  the 
secret  of  "  leaf-mould "  and  old  roots. 
The  success  was  not  attained  without  great 
perseverance  and  much  patient  care,  and 
every  spring  a  part  of  the  bed  had  to  be 
replanted.  The  ferns  grew  in  abundance 
along  the  creek,  which  was  one  cf  the 
many  branches  of  the  Elkhorn ;  and  Lydia 
took  the  liveliest  pleasure  in  hunting  them 
in  the  secluded  and  picturesque  nooks 
among  the  boldest  of  the  cliffs.  Other 


94  In  "  Goal's  Country" 

wild  things  grew  along  the  creek  that  were 
equally  desirable  additions  to  her  ornamen 
tal  baskets,  among  them  the  moss  with 
which  she  lined  her  wire  hanging-baskets, 
and  the  trailing  ground-ivy  that  could  be 
used  effectively  in  so  many  ways.  During 
the  spring  and  summer  she  made  numerous 
excursions  in  search  of  moss  and  roots, 
attended  by  old  Dave,  who  drove  the  phae 
ton,  carried  the  baskets,  and  added  the 
feeling  of  security  only  to  be  provided  by 
the  shadow  of  a  human  presence  to  what 
had  in  other  respects  all  the  charm  of  a 
solitary  ramble.  She  enjoyed  these  trips 
intensely,  but  the  pleasure  was  always 
more  or  less  dashed  with  compunction  for 
dragging  Dave's  rheumatic  legs  over  those 
sharp  ledges :  and  Dave  groaned  and 
grunted  so  continually  that  she  was  never 
for  a  moment  allowed  to  forget  that  she 


In  "  God's  Country."  95 

was  victimizing  him  in  the  pursuit  of  some 
thing  which,  when  found,  was  utterly  worth 
less.     With  Karl  it  was  the  reverse :    he 
was  delighted  to  hunt  for  ferns.     Nothing 
suited  him  so  well.     It  was  clear,  though 
he  never  gave  verbal  expression  to  the  sen 
timent,  that  no  occupation  within  the  com 
pass  of   invention  was    so    entirely  to   his 
taste.     She   could  go  with  him  where  she 
could  not  go  with  Dave,  for  Dave  could 
not  climb  over   the   roughest   places,  and 
she   was    afraid   to    go   alone.     Karl    was 
strong  and  agile,  and  could  assist  her  over 
heights   she   could    not   climb   by  herself ; 
and  had  she  not  been  too  much  occupied 
with  other  things  she  would  probably  have 
noticed     the     assiduity     with     which     he 
searched    out   such   points.     Where   Dave 
had  dragged  his  creaking  joints  laboriously 
after  her,  Karl,  lithe  and  agile   as  a  cat, 


96  In  "God's  Country.'1 

went  before,  making  a  path  by  parting  the 
thick  branches  and  holding  them  while  she 
passed.  The  number  of  delicate,  unobtru 
sive  attentions  with  which  he  made  shift  to 
pave  the  ascent  or  descent  was  truly  mar 
vellous,  had  she  paused  to  consider  it. 
Here  in  the  woods  she  found  it  difficult  to 
maintain  the  strict  relation  of  mistress 
and  servant.  Here  was  a  subtle  change  of 
attitude  defined  by  no  overt  act.  Away 
from  his  tools,  his  work,  and"  the  dominant 
thought  of  servitude,  Karl  was  again  a 
handsome  vagabond,  who  might  be  a 
prince  in  disguise.  The  servile  manner  so 
rigidly  observed  in  the  presence  of  others, 
here  gave  place  to  a  knightly  courtesy, 
tinged  at  times  with  a  boyish  audacity  that 
was  never  pushed  to  a  point  where  she 
could  afford  to  resent  it.  He  seemed  to 
know  the  exact  point  at  which  to  pause  or 


In  "  God's  Country."  97 

change  his  manner.  His  tact,  his  facility 
in  retreat,  amounted  to  genius.  Her  face 
was  an  open  page,  which  he  read  with 
unfailing  accuracy,  and  he  was  duly  heed 
ful  of  its  signals. 

She  was  a  well-balanced,  self-reliant  girl, 
but  there  were  moments  in  which  she  felt 
that  he  had  her  at  a  disadvantage,  when 
she  suspected  that  his  soul  was  not  as 
guileless  as  his  face,  that  his  arts  were 
many  and  were  deep.  They  certainly 
were  the  more  seductive  for  that  infantile 
imperfection  of  speech.  There  were 
times  when  the  arbitrary  convention  that 
separated  them  seemed  flimsier  than  cob 
web,  lighter  than  thistledown  ;  and  she  felt 
that,  if  he  chose  to  whistle  it  down  the 
wind,  she  would  be  powerless  to  preserve 
it.  She  was  too  clear-headed  not  to  real 
ize  the  heightened  zest,  the  exhilaration, 
7 


In  "  God's  Country." 


with  which  Karl's  presence  invested 
these  rambles ;  and  she  had  no  sooner 
admitted  it  to  herself  than  she  began  to 
beat  up  a  reason.  She  found  one,  and 
it  was  not  only  very  simple  but  perfectly 
satisfactory :  it  was  because  Karl  was  so 
much  more  active  and  willing  than  Dave, 
and  with  him  she  could  go  to  so  many 
places  inaccessible  to  her  before. 


V. 

THE  gardener  and  Schneider  were  the 
only  white  hands  on  the  place.  When  the 
latter  first  came  they  did  not  know  just 
what  to  do  with  him.  He  could  not  of 
course  lodge  in  the  Colonel's  house, 
though  it  was  ample  and  almost  empty. 
He  was  finally  bestowed  in  the  "fur 
cabin,"  the  last  of  the  line  of  low  log 
rooms  that  had  served  as  negro  quarters  in 
slave  time.  The  local  prejudice  in  favor 
of  a  white  skin  had  obtained  for  him  some 
concessions  in  the  shape  of  additional 
furniture,  and  Meriky,  the  house  girl,  had 
been  told  that  she  was  to  look  after  the 
room  ,  but  from  the  time  of  his  moving 
in,  nobody  at  the  house  had  given  a 
99 


ioo  In  "  God's  Country" 

thought  to  Schneider  or  his  lodging ;  and 
Meriky,  with  the  supreme  disdain  of  her 
race  for  "po'  white  trash,"  ignored  the 
order  without  scruple,  affirming  with  many 
scornful  sniffs  and  tosses  that  she  "  wan't 
gwine  to  wait  on  no  white  nigga." 

One  afternoon,  about  two  weeks  after 
the  arrival  of  Karl,  Lydia  chanced  to  pass 
by  the  cabin,  the  door  of  which  was  open. 
The  bed  was  unmade,  the  floor  unswept, 
and  the  room  had  a  shocking  appearance 
of  squalor  and  untidiness. 

"  I  declare  it's  a  shame ;  Meriky  ought 
to  ten'  to  this  cabin ;  an'  she  must,"  said 
Lydia,  mortified  by  the  knowledge  that 
any  white  person  had  been  so  lodged  on 
her  father's  place. 

As  she  passed  the  window  she  saw  two 
oooks  lying  on  the  table  near  it.  The 
*ext  was  German,  but  she  could  see  that  it 


/;/  "  God's  Country"  101 

was  verse,  and  could  make  out  on  the 
respective  title-pages  the  names  of  Heine 
and  Goethe.  There  was  no  name  on 
the  fly-leaves  to  indicate  the  ownership, 
but  she  was  sure  they  were  Karl's.  She 
picked  up  one  of  them,  and  as  she  care 
lessly  turned  it  over  a  bunch  of  violets 
tied  with  a  blade  of  grass  dropped  out. 

It  had  not  before  occurred  to  her  that 
Schneider  suffered  any  indignity  in  being 
thus  bestowed ;  even  now  she  thought  that, 
with  a  thorough  overhauling,  the  place 
might  be  made  habitable  for  him  :  but 
she  felt  that  his  countryman  was  entitled 
to  something  better,  and  she  was  in 
spired  with  a  bold  resolve  to  move  him 
into  the  room  over  the  kitchen,  which 
had  never  been  used  for  anything  and  was 
conveniently  accessible  by  the  stairway 
leading  up  from  the  back  porch. 


102  In  "  God's  Country  :j 

That  afternoon  she  marshalled  three 
negro  women  into  the  large,  low-ceiled, 
barn-like  room  over  the  kitchen,  which  was 
speedily  swept,  scoured,  and  furnished 
with  articles  excavated  from  the  lumber 
room.  A  splendid  mahogany  bedstead 
with  elaborately  carved  posts  towered  in 
one  corner  ;  a  quaint  claw-foot  bureau,  that 
like  the  bedstead  had  retired  before  newer 
fancies  in  furniture,  kept  it  company  ;  and 
a  washstand  was  improvised  from  a 
rosewood  table,  whose  cracked  slab  of 
Egyptian  marble  had  condemned  it  to 
banishment  in  the  dim  regions  of  the  attic. 
The  collection  of  odd  chairs,  the  furniture 
belonging  to  different  periods,  the  green 
Venetian  blinds  at  the  windows,  gave  the 
room  a  bizarre  appearance.  Lydia 
thought  it  looked  very  much  like  a  lumber 
room,  but  it  was  better  than  the  cabin, 


In  "  God's  Country."  103 

and  it  was  near  enough  for  her  to  see  that 
Meriky  attended  to  it  properly. 

That  night,  as  Karl  proceeded  to  move 
his  belongings,  consisting  of  the  two  books 
and  a  small  bundle  of  clothing,  from  the 
cabin  to  the  house,  Schneider,  after  look 
ing  at  him  stolidly  for  a  moment,  asked, 
"  You  vas  bromoded,  ain'd  ud  ?" 

Karl  nodded,  and  as  he  turned  his  back 
on  the  cabin  and  crossed  the  moonlit 
stretch  of  lawn  that  lay  between  it  and 
the  house,  Schneider  shook  his  head 
solemnly,  and  added,  "  Somepody  elz  haf 
vound  you  oud  already." 

The  house  had  two  long  porches  facing 
east  and  west,  which  enabled  Lydia  to 
follow  the  shadow  on  warm  days.  The 
east  porch  led  directly  into  the  garden, 
and  here,  through  the  long  afternoon", 
as  she  sat  with  her  novel  or  her  embroid- 


iO4  In  "  God's  Country," 

ery,  she  could  see  the  gardener  at  his 
work,  hear  him  humming  softly  to  himself 
as  he  scraped  the  earthen  walks  or 
trimmed  the  bluegrass  borders  of  the 
flower-beds.  She  was  often  moved  to  ask 
him  to  sing  again  the  song  that  still 
haunted  her,  but  she  never  did,  and  she 
could  not  tell  why  she  did  not.  In  spite  of 
his  steady  application  to  work,  his  growing 
efficiency,  his  habitual  attitude  of  defer 
ence,  he  was  an  embarrassing  element. 
Unaccustomed  to  the  service  of  white 
people,  she  experienced  a  hesitancy  in 
giving  orders  that  was  absent  from  her 
intercourse  with  the  negroes.  Many 
services  rendered  by  Dave  she  could  not 
exact  of  Karl  ;  and  whenever  she  found 
herself  manoeuvring  to  save  him  from  the 
more  menial  offices  of  his  position,  s*he 
reflected  with  a  twinge  of  mortification 


In  "  God's  Country."  105 

that  she  was  exhibiting  an  undue  interest 
in  her  father's  servant.  The  feeling  would 
have  been  the  same  toward  any  white 
person  in  the  station  her  education  and 
prejudices  inclined  her  to  regard  as  the 
exclusive  heritage  of  the  negro.  In  the 
case  of  Karl  it  was  the  more  pronounced 
because  she  had  seen  him  first  in  the 
light  of  an  interesting  vagabond,  bearing 
himself  with  the  chivalric  reverence  of 
a  knight-errant.  She  had  at  times  an 
uneasy  sense  of  being  open  to  his  criticism. 
She  never  attempted  to  sing  when  he  was 
near;  she  seldom  sang  at  all.  After  the 
mellow  resonance  of  his  voice,  her  own 
sounded  thin  and  weak.  She  felt  in  a 
vague  way  that  he  was  capable  of  com 
paring  her  with  some  standard  of  which 
she  had  no  conception,  and  it  annoyed 
her.  She  realized  to  some  extent  how 


106  In  "God's  Country." 

far  his  knowledge  of  the  world,  of  every 
thing,  exceeded  her  own,  and  it  irritated 
her  beyond  measure.  She  felt,  though  she 
did  not  admit  it,  that  in  some  respects 
he  was  superior  to  many  men  she  recog 
nized  as  equals ;  but  the  same  fine  intui 
tion  that  discovered  this  superiority  showed 
her  that  it  could  not  be  made  apparent  to 
anyone  else.  As  she  was  the  only  one  of 
the  family  who  came  in  contact  with  him, 
she  was  the  only  one  to  discover  what  her 
father  would  have  been  slow  to  detect 
in  any  case — the  intangible  charm  she  felt 
but  could  not  define.  The  qualities  that 
contributed  to  it  would  not  commend  him 
to  the  regard  of  those  around  her.  To 
the  men  of  her  acquaintance  he  would  not 
seem  more  worthy  because  he  loved  flow 
ers,  read  Heine,  of  whom  they  knew  noth 
ing,  sang  divinely,  and  handled  the  guitar 


In  "God's  Country."  107 

with  inimitable  grace.  Any  one  of  his 
accomplishments  would  be  sufficient  to 
condemn  him  in  the  eyes  of  those  who 
would  consider  them  not  only  trivial,  but 
unmanly,  and  she  was  secretly  chagrined 
that  she  had  found  them  admirable. 

Dinner  was  just  over,  and  Colonel  Ran- 
some,  on  the  eve  of  his  second  toilet  for 
the  da)',  went  first  to  one  window  then  to 
another,  scanning  the  premises  for  a  loiter 
ing  negro,  but  found  none.  He  called 
several  times,  loudly  and  in  rapid  succes 
sion,  but  there  was  no  response.  "  It's 
come  to  a  pretty  pass,"  he  complained, 
"  when  a  man  keeps  a  whole  brigade  of 
black  devils  round  him  and  can't  find  one 
to  black  his  shoes."  He  came  out  upon 
the  east  porch,  and  was  pacing  helplessly 
up  and  down,  with  the  shoes  in  his  hana, 
when  Karl  came  through  the  garden  gaic- 


io8  In  "God's  Country." 

"Here,  Karl,"  he  called,  "black  my 
shoes,  quick." 

Miss  Ransome,  still  in  the  dining-room, 
where  she  was  serving  the  allowance  of 
sugar  and  butter  for  the  negroes,  and  put 
ting  the  remainder  safe  under  lock  and 
key,  heard  the  order,  and  started  as  from 
the  stroke  of  a  lash.  She  went  to  the 
kitchen  door  and  found  Tom,  who  had  fin 
ished  his  dinner,  asleep,  with  his  head  in 
his  plate. 

"  Tom,"  she  called,  "  come  here  this 
minute  and  black  yuh  Mahs  Wick's  shoes." 

On  her  way  back  to  the  dining-room  she 
passed  Karl,  who  had  already  picked  up 
the  shoes,  and  was  looking  for  the  blacking 
in  the  closet  under  the  stairway. 

"  Put    'em    down,"    she    said,    angrily. 
"You  can  hitch  up  the  pha'ton,  an'  I'll  go' 
after  those  ferns  this  evenin'  "  (afternoon). 


In  "  God's  Country"  109 

The  phaeton  was  soon  ready,  and  they 
drove  silently  down  the  avenue,  across  the 
pike,  and  into  a  lane  bordered  with  a  close 
growth  of  locust  and  fragrant  feathery 
sprays  of  elder-bloom.  Karl  would  always 
remember  the  avenue  as  it  looked  on  the 
day  he  entered  it  a  beggar — before  he  had 
dreamed  of  the  supreme  bliss  of  driving 
through  the  shady  byways  of  "  God's 
Country "  with  the  most  beautiful  woman 
his  eyes  had  ever  beheld.  What  if  she 
did  not  know  how  he  adored  her  ?  What 
if  she  did  despise  him  for  his  coarse 
clothes,  but  most  of  all  for  the  service  to 
herself,  in  the  rendering  of  which  he  found 
his  keenest  pleasure  ?  What  if  the  preju 
dice  and  bigotry  that  were  hers  by  inheri 
tance  and  education  kept  her  blind  to  the 
truth  ?  kept  her  fighting  against  the  influ 
ence  she  felt  but  could  not  understand  ? 


no  In  "God's  Country." 

What  if  she  saw  only  the  uncouth  attire  of 
him  whose  soul  was  exhaled  before  her 
daily  in  the  priceless  incense  of  a  passion 
that  exacted  nothing  ?  It  could  not  abate 
one  vibration  of  the  exquisite  emotion  that 
thrilled  him  as  he  looked  out  over  the 
green  fields,  felt  the  breath  of  heaven  on 
his  face,  and  revelled  in  the  exhilarating 
contact  of  Lydia's  dress,  or  trembled  at  the 
light,  accidental  touch  of  her  arm  or  shoul 
der  as  the  vehicle  bounded  over  the  un 
even  road.  He  knew  that  in  the  autumn 
she  was  to  marry  the  handsome  young  fel 
low  whose  amiable  arrogance  he  thought 
detestable  ;  but  he  did  not  allow  that  event 
to  thrust  its  gaunt  shadow  into  the  present, 
which  was  his.  They  drove  through  a 
mile  of  lane  and  across  a  field  of  purple 
clover,  to  the  bluff  that  overhung  the 
creek,  where  they  hitched  the  horse. 


In  "  God's  Country"  in 

Lydia  had  not  spoken  since  they  started, 
and  Karl  saw  that  the  wind  was  in  the 
east,  but  he  did  not  know  why  it  had 
shifted.  Lydia  was  in  a  tempestuous  state 
of  mind.  Why  had  she  interfered  about 
those  shoes  ?  She  was  beginning  to  fear 
that  in  the  shock  of  surprise  at  her  father's 
order  she  had  shown  more  feeling  than 
was  necessary  or  becoming.  She  won 
dered  if  Karl  had  noticed  it,  and  how  he 
would  construe  it.  As  usual,  she  saw  fit  to 
counteract  the  effect  of  any  trivial  kindness 
she  had  shown  him,  by  a  lofty  remoteness 
of  demeanor.  She  understood  the  diffi 
culty  of  carrying  out  the  determination  in 
this  particular  spot — understood  that  it 
would  spoil  the  afternoon  for  herself  as 
well  as  for  him ;  but  she  was  none  the  less 
resolved.  She  began  by  ignoring  the  path 
he  opened  for  her  as  usual,  and  struck  out 


In  "God's  Country." 


in  mother  direction,  though  the  formation 
of  the  cliff  was  such  that  they  could  at  no 
point  in  the  descent  be  more  than  three 
feet  apart.  At  the  bottom  of  the  precipice 
the  creek  unfolded  itself  like  a  green  rib 
bon,  between  white  ledges  of  limestone  ; 
and  deep  down,  where  perpetual  twilight 
brooded,  lay  the  dim,  cool  regions  of  moss 
and  fern.  From  the  midst  of  the  dusky 
solitude  the  white  arms  of  a  sycamore,  now 
hidden,  now  revealed,  by  the  waving  of 
boughs,  shone  like  the  gleaming  limbs  of  a 
dryad  vanishing  coyly  at  their  approach. 
The  thicket  was  alive  with  the  brush  of 
wings,  and  vocal  with  the  reed  choir  of 
the  woods.  The  place  was  unspeakably 
lovely  in  the  green  luxuriance  of  full  foli 
age,  but  she  carried  with  her  a  jarring 
thought  that  made  her  indifferent  to  its 
beauty.  It  was  probably  owing  to  the 


In  "God's  Country."  113 

vexation  incidental  to  the  inopportune 
necessity  for  making  herself  disagreeable 
that  she  walked  so  absently,  and  over 
looked  the  grape-vine  upon  which  she 
tripped.  Karl  turned,  and  stayed  her  with 
his  hand,  but  they  both  slipped  from  the 
path,  borne  on  by  the  impetus  of  her  fall. 
It  was  impossible  to  be  imposing  or  lofty 
to  a  man  who  held  her  suspended  over  a 
chasm,  and  Lydia  felt  her  dignity  melting 
like  thin  ice.  The  descent  was  very  abrupt, 
the  mould  soft  and  treacherous,  and  they 
could  not  stand  in  one  place  long  enough 
to  get  an  advantageous  start.  They  were 
still  slipping,  when  Karl  caught  her  with 
one  arm  and  grasped  the  limb  of  a  tree 
with  the  other  hand.  For  an  instant  she 
felt  nis  breath  upon  her  face,  and  then  she 
was  being  whirled,  carried  bodily,  down  the 

steep  bluff.     She   was  not  thinking  of  the 
8 


H4  In  "  God's  Country." 


descent  or  its  perils.  She  was  conscious 
only  of  the  contact ;  her  head  was  dizzy 
and  her  veins  ran  fire.  It  was  but  an  in 
stant.  It  was  like  a  flash.  They  reached 
the  bottom  with  no  more  serious  injury 
than  a  few  scratches,  and  lit  upon  their 
feet.  Lydia  was  trembling  violently,  and 
for  her  life  she  could  not  look  at  Karl. 
He  stood  beside  her,  thrilling  with  the  re 
membrance  of  that  embrace,  the  more  de 
licious  because  of  the  danger  that  attended 
it.  She  did  not  speak,  and  the  face  that 
would  have  been  a  revelation  to  him  was 
hidden  by  the  sun-bonnet.  To  Lydia  the 
sensation  was  altogether  new,  and  it  was  as 
unfathomable  as  it  was  unfamiliar.  It 
seemed  in  some  vague  way  connected  with 
the  strange  spell  that  always  settled  down 
upon  them  at  the  edge  of  this  sylvan  soli 
tude,  where  the  coercive  energy  of  nature 


In  "  God's  Country."  115 

thrust  out  all  arbitrary  distinctions  and 
brought  her  face  to  face  with  something 
feared  and  yet  desired.  Karl,  uncertain  of 
her  mood,  was  discreetly  silent.  They 
worked  for  an  hour  in  the  cool,  fragrant 
dusk  of  the  ravine,  with  the  ribbon  of  water 
below  and  the  ribbon  of  sky  above.  The 
longer  they  kept  silent  the  harder  it  was  to 
speak  ;  and  when  at  last  Karl  announced 
that  the  baskets  were  full,  his  voice 
sounded  unfamiliar  to  Lydia,  but  it  broke 
the  spell  and  brought  her  back  to  the  level 
of  the  commonplace.  They  started  home 
immediately,  not  tarrying  for  the  usual 
stroll  after  the  baskets  were  filled.  There 
were  more  baskets  than  Karl  could  carry 
at  once,  and  rather  than  wait  to  send  him 
back,  she  took  up  the  smallest  one  herself. 
She  found  it  heavier  than  she  expected, 
and,  when  half-way  up  the  cliff,  sank  on  a 


n6  In  "  God's  Country." 

ledge  to  rest.  Karl  followed  her  example. 
The  cliff  was  much  lower  on  the  other  side 
of  the  creek  at  this  point,  and  the  view 
commanded  a  wide,  sun-flooded  plateau, 
carved  into  fantastic  arabesques  by  the 
erratic  windings  of  the  Elkhorn.  The 
shadows  of  flying  clouds  chased  each  other 
over  golden  billows  of  wheat  and  barley 
and  far-reaching  fields  of  dark,  luxuriant 
hemp  that  broke  into  a  thousand  whirling 
eddies  at  the  touch  of  every  breeze. 

A  soft,  luminous  blue  mist  floated  like  a 
gauze  streamer  along  the  watercourse,  and 
hovered  over  the  slight  depressions  in  the 
land  ;  and  the  deserted  log  cabin  standing 
in  the  midst  of  the  stretch  of  purple  clover 
in  the  creek  bottom  looked  like  some  rude 
craft  afloat  on  a  sea  of  amethyst.  The 
shrill  bird  chorus  was  pierced  by  occa 
sional  bursts  of  song  as  the  ambitious  solo 


In  "God's  Country.  117 

of  the  mocking-bird  rose  in  a  succession  of 
imitative  phrases,  and  joined  now  and  then 
by  the  plaintive  contralto  note  of  the  dove 
calling  across  the  field  behind  them. 
Down  at  the  creek's  edge  a  negro  woman 
was  hanging  up  the  weekly  wash,  and  from 
under  the  kettles  fluttered  up  the  blue, 
odorous  smoke  of  a  wood  fire.  After  it 
soared  a  voice  powerful,  penetrating,  and 
slightly  nasal,  but  not  unpleasant,  bearing 
upward  the  burden  of  a  favorite  plantation 
hymn  : 

"  I'se  gwyne  home  to  glory,  don't  you  grieve  arter 

me, 
I'se  gwyne  home  to  glory,  don't  you  grieve  arter 

me, 
I'se  gwyne  home  to  glory,  don't  you  grieve  arter 

me; 
'Ca'se  I  do'  want  you  to  grieve  arter  me." 

She  sang   with   power  and  earnestness, 
and    no    combination    of    intervals    could 


n8  In  "  God's  Country r 

convey  an  adequate  impression  of  her 
treatment  of  that  final  "  me,''  which  she 
prolonged  indefinitely,  ornamented  with 
innumerable  shakes  and  appoggiaturas, 
held  aloft  in  a  piercing  tremulo,  and 
finally,  when  breath  was  exhausted,  heaved 
upward  with  a  jerk. 

A  light  breeze  blew  over  them,  bringing 
with  it  the  clean,  strong,  penetrating  smell 
of  hemp.  Karl  took  off  his  hat  and  drew 
in  a  deep  breath. 

"  You  are  right  to  call  it  God's  country," 
he  said.  "  It  is  beautiful ;  it  is  like  Para 
dise." 

Lydia  had  taken  off  the  sun-bonnet  to 
which  he  so  objected,  and  was  fanning  her 
self  with  it  vigorously.  Her  eyes  were 
fixed  on  a  distant  point  in  the  landscape, 
and  her  face  was  stamped  with  the  apa 
thetic  calm  of  a  reactive  mood. 


In  "God's  Country:'  119 

Karl  scanned  it  intently,  but  for  once 
could  make  nothing  of  it.  It  neither  en 
couraged  nor  repelled  him. 

Presently  he  said  in  an  absent  way,  as  il 
to  nobody  in  particular,  "  I  am  glad  I  found 
God's  country.  Dis  is  de  happies'  summer 
I  did  effer  know." 

Lydia  turned,  and  looked  down  at  him 
curiously.  He  was  lying  on  his  back  look 
ing  up  at  the  strip  of  sky,  and  his  eyes  re 
flected  its  deep,  luminous  blue.  His  face 
wore  that  bland  and  guileless  expression 
so  impossible  to  construe  with  certainty. 
Was  he  joking  ?  If  this  was  the  happiest 
summer  he  had  ever  known,  what  must  his 
life  have  been  ?  His  visible  vestments 
were  a  shirt  of  unbleached  cotton,  a  pair  ot 
blue-cotton  trousers,  coarse  but  clean,  and 
a  pair  of  calfskin  shoes.  How  could  any 
body  be  happy  like  that  ?  If  thb  was 


120  In  "God's  Country." 

happiness,  she  was  more  curious  thar  ^ver 
to  know  what  his  life  had  been.  She  was 
moved  to  ask  him  a  question  that  had  long 
been  at  the  tip  of  her  tongue  : 

"  What  did  you  do  in  your  own  coun 
try?" 

Karl  replied  that,  when  not  wandering 
about,  he  had  been  in  the  army. 

Her  eyes  brightened  :  if  he  had  been  a 
soldier,  that  was  not  so  bad. 

"  Did  you  like  being  in  the  army  ? " 

"  No,"  he  answered,  simply,  "  de  disci 
pline  is  ve'y  strict." 

"  How  came  you  to  join  the  army  ?  " 

He  replied  that  every  man  in  his  country 
had  to  serve  a  certain  length  of  time, 
whether  he  liked  it  or  not. 

There  had  always  been  lurking  in  her 
mind  a  suspicion  that  in  his  own  country 
his  position  had  been  different  from  what 


In  "  God's  Country."  121 


it  was  here.  He  certainly  was  not  like 
Schneider,  and  she  had  fancied  that  at 
home  he  might  at  least  have  been  a  gentle 
man  ;  but  as  he  answered  her  questions 
the  last  vestige  of  the  illusion  she  had  en 
tertained  vanished  like  a  faint  odor  in  a 
gale.  If  this  was  the  happiest  summer  he 
had  ever  known,  he  could  not  have  been 
any  better  off  in  his  own  country ;  and  the 
man  who  was  not  a  fighter  from  instinct 
and  a  soldier  from  choice  was  less  than  a 
man  to  her.  How  could  he  prefer  this  to 
being  in  the  army  ?  He  had  probably  de 
serted  ;  that  was  why  he  was  an  exile. 
Never  again  would  she  find  a  peg  upon 
which  to  hang  a  romantic  possibility.  She 
looked  down  upon  him  as  he  lay  there  gaz 
ing  up  into  the  sky ;  and  he  was  so  pitiably 
content,  so  egregiously  happy,  that  she 
hated  him.  She  turned  impatiently  away 


In  "  God's  Country." 


from  a  spectacle  so  irritating,  and  leaned 
over  the  ledge  to  look  into  the  chasm. 
Half-way  down  the  side  of  the  cliff,  which 
was  almost  perpendicular,  some  pale-blue 
flowers  waved  from  a  crevice  in  the  rock. 
She  had  never  seen  any  like  them  before, 
though  she  had  been  so  often  to  the  place, 
and  they  roused  the  interest  that  nothing 
else  could  have  stimulated  at  that  moment. 

"  Look  there  !  "  she  exclaimed,  impul 
sively  ;  "  I  wonder  what  they  are  like  when 
you  get  close  to  'em  ?  What  a  pity  they 
are  jus'  where  we  can't  get  at  'em  from 
above  or  below  !  " 

From  the  point  where  they  sat  to  the 
bed  of  the  creek  was  a  sheer  drop  of  sev 
enty-five  feet,  and  the  cliff,  though  covered 
with  a  scant  vegetation  that  found  a  foot 
hold  in  the  crevices  of  rock,  was  too  nearly 
straight  to  climb  ;  and  the  flowers,  inacces- 


In  "  God's  Country."  123 

sible  from  any  direction,  nodded  gayly  in 
exasperating  security. 

"  I  do  wish  I  had  some  of  'em,"  said 
Lydia,  earnestly,  the  more  eager  because 
they  were  so  entirely  out  of  reach. 

Karl  leaned  over  the  edge.  "  Dose  blue 
ones  ? "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  with  the  long  stems.  Ain't  they 
lovely  ? " 

He  reached  out  and  caught  the  top  of  a 
supple  young  sapling  that  grew  in  a  crevice 
below  them,  and  before  she  had  tinished 
the  question  he  had  swung  himself  over 
the  ledge. 

The  drop  almost  took  her  breath.  With 
bloodless  face  she  leaned  over  the  edge, 
straining  her  eyes  for  a  glimpse  of  him.  In 
a  second  the  sapling  came  whizzing  back 
to  its  place,  lashing  the  intervening  brusa 
tremendously,  almost  striking  her  >n  the 


124  /»  "  God's  Country." 

face.  Below  there  was  a  similar  snapping 
of  branches  that  filled  her  with  terror. 
With  the  fascination  of  horror,  she  leaned 
over  and  looked  again.  Far  below  she  saw 
him  swinging  by  a  limb,  working  himself 
back  and  forth  toward  the  cranny  from 
which  the  flowers  seemed  to  beckon  deri 
sively.  The  first  time  he  did  not  reach 
them  by  two  feet ;  the  next  time  he  got 
nearer;  the  third  time  he  touched  the  rock 
but  missed  the  prize,  and  Lydia,  straining 
her  eyes  through  the  brush,  could  see  that 
the  root  of  the  young  tree  by  which  he 
swung  was  yielding.  He  did  not  see  the 
danger,  and  she  could  not  call  to  him,  she 
was  so  paralyzed  with  fear  He  was  swing 
ing  toward  the  rock  for  the  fourth  time — 
but  she  could  look  no  longer.  She  drew 
back  and  listened  breathlessly  for  what 
seemed  an  age.  Deep  in  the  ravine  she 


In  "  God's  Country."  125 

heard  a  pheasant  drumming ;  the  dove 
called  across  the  wood ;  the  negro  woman 
at  the  creek's  edge  rang  out  the  vociferous 
"  Don't  you  grieve  arter  me,"  which  all  at 
once  seemed  to  take  on  a  sinister  meaning 
— and  then  the  crash  came. 

She  turned  suddenly  cold  and  sick,  and 
a  black  curtain  fell  between  her  and  the 
landscape. 

Meanwhile  Karl,  who  had  in  the  nick 
of  time  seized  another  sapling,  and  thus 
achieved  a  safe  but  precipitous  descent, 
was  leisurely  climbing  back  to  the  top. 
Several  minutes  elapsed  while  Lydia  lay 
pale  and  unconscious  ;  then  the  cool  wind 
blowing  on  her  face  revived  her.  She  sat 
up  feebly,  and  was  just  beginning  to  re 
member  why  she  had  fainted,  and  that  in 
the  ravine  below  lay  the  mangled  remains 
of  Karl,  when  she  looked  up  and  saw  him 


126  In  "God's  Country  >" 

so  close  to  her  that  she  could  have  touched 
him.  The  transition  from  sickening  ter 
ror  to  infinite  relief,  to  something  more 
than  relief,  was  so  sudden  and  so  violent 
that  Karl  was  thrilled  by  both  in  the  same 
instant.  The  deadly  fear,  the  joyful  light 
that  burned  in  her  eyes  a  moment  later, 
were  alike  for  him.  His  own  face  reflected 
the  glow  of  hers  ;  it  shone  with  a  new  light, 
eager,  intense.  For  a  moment  they  looked 
at  each  other ;  then  he  asked,  "  Were  you 
frightened  ? " 

The  question  came  softly  and  with  just 
the  touch  of  tenderness  sufficient  to  betray 
his  thought.  Her  face  changed  instantly. 

"It  was  enough  to  frighten  anybody," 
she  replied.  "  And  what  a  perfec'ly  ridic 
ulous  thing  it  was  to  do  !  " 

He  held  out  the  blue  flowers  mutely  and 
with  a  penitent  face. 


In  "  God's  Country."  127 

She  hesitated  a  moment,  then  took  them 
and  stuck  them  carelessly  in  her  belt.  He 
was  safe  now  and  she  could  afford  to  be 
rigorous. 

On  the  way  home  she  sat  up  rigidly  in 
the  phaeton  and  did  not  speak  to  him,  and 
bitterly  resented  the  fact  that  Karl,  though 
silent  and  thoughtful,  seemed  oblivious  of 
her  displeasure. 

That  night  in  the  room  over  the  kitchen 
a  young  man,  with  head  bared  to  the 
caress  of  the  fragrant  summer  breeze, 
leaned  out  of  the  small  square  window  into 
the  moonlight  and  hummed  snatches  of  a 
melody  in  the  intervals  of  a  fragmentary 
soliloquy.  "  Her  face  was  glorious,"  he 
was  saying.  "  She  lofes  me  and  she 
despises  herself.  She  will  be  very  haugh 
ty  very  grand,  now  for  a  long  time.  It  is 
curious,  dis  pride,  dis  grand  air.  In  dis 


128  In  "  God's  Country." 

country  dey  say  all  people  are  de  same,  but 
it  is  not  so.  Because  I  wear  dese  clothes 
and  dig  in  her  garden,  she  despises  me. 
It  is  very  funny,  dese  Americans.  I  might 
despise  her,  but  I  don  t.  But  I  hate  him. 
He  'ink  de  world  was  made  for  him. 
He  is  a  conceited  jackanape." 

In  the  white-curtained  room  at  the  front 
of  the  house  sat  Lydia,  rocking  vigorously, 
looking  out  upon  the  moonlit  garden,  glanc 
ing  occasionally  at  the  window  at  the  end 
of  the  porch,  upon  the  sill  of  which  she 
thought  a  head  rested.  She  too  was  think 
ing  of  the  incident  of  the  afternoon.  She 
was  unable  to  guess  how  Karl  had  man 
aged  to  reach  the  bottom  of  the  cliff  alive, 
but  she  would  not  have  betrayed  so  much 
interest  as  would  be  involved  in  direct 
inquiry.  She  remembered  how  his  face 
looked  as  it  lit  up  suddenly  with  that  eager 


In  "  God's  Country"  129 

k*ow.  How  dare  he  look  at  her  like  that  ? 
How  soft  his  voice  was,  how  full  of  tender 
concern,  as  he  asked  if  she  were  fright 
ened  !  "  What  impudence  ! "  And  that 
mad  dash  over  the  cliff !  No  other  man 
she  knew  could  or  would  have  done  it.  It 
reminded  her  of  that  old  legend  of  the 
knight,  the  lions,  and  the  lady's  glove.  It 
certainly  was  absurd.  It  was  impertinent, 
if  she  chose  to  so  consider  it ;  but  it  was 
deliciously  reckless,  and  it  was  flattering  to 
the  point  of  intoxication.  She  had  pro 
ceeded  to  crush  him  instantly,  as  she 
always  did  when  he  presumed  ;  but  in  the 
present  instance  there  was  an  annoying 
sense  of  incompleteness.  She  feared  that 
this  time  she  had  not  done  it  effectively. 
She  flushed  as  she  recalled  that  headlong 
rush  they  had  taken  down  the  bluff,  and 
the  sensation  that  accompanied  it,  deli- 


130  In  "  God's  Country:' 

cious  and  yet  full  of  vague  terror ;  and  a 
thrill  that  was  like  the  echo  of  it  passed 
over  her.  The  odorous  wind  that  came  in 
from  the  garden  bore  to  her  fragments  of  a 
plaintive  melody,  and  presently,  for  no  rea 
son  that  she  could  assign,  her  head 
drooped  upon  the  high,  old-fashioned  sill 
of  the  window  and  she  began  to  cry  softly. 


VI. 

A  NOTED  Kentucky  turfman  who  late  in 
life  sought  refuge  in  the  bosom  of  the 
Church  was  frequently  heard  to  remark, 
with  the  moisture  of  deep  feeling  in  his 
eyes,  that  he  confidently  expected  to  run 
his  favorite  thoroughbred  in  the  green 
pastures  of  the  hereafter.  It  is  not  improb 
able  that  the  indifference  of  his  class  to 
the  consolations  of  religion  and  the  prom 
ises  of  a  future  life  is  due  to  the  absence  of 
the  simple  faith  upon  which  the  General's 
blissful  anticipation  reposed.  Were  heav 
en  an  interminable  boulevard,  and  the 
transportation  of  horses  assured,  no  Ken- 
tuckian  would  miss  it,  though  convinced 
that  it  lay  through  a  prohibition  district. 


132  In  "  God's  Country." 

Other  men  own  horses,  drive  them,  admire 
their  beauty,  glory  in  their  speed;  but 
nowhere  outside  of  an  Arabian  legend  is  a 
horse  the  object  of  so  much  affectionate 
solicitude,  so  nearly  a  part  of  its  owner's 
being,  as  in  Kentucky.  A  Kentuckian 
may  be  conceived  of  without  his  title ;  he 
may  exist  without  an  imposing  pedigree;  a 
bold  flight  of  the  imagination  may  even 
picture  him  without  his  morning  toddy  ; — 
but  without  his  horse  he  is  impossible. 
The  buggy  is  the  vehicle  with  which  he  is 
inseparably  identified.  "  Buggy-riding  "  is 
his  chief  amusement.  The  buggy  is  to  him 
at  the  same  time  what  the  gondola  is  to  the 
Venetian,  and  the  guitar  to  the  Spaniard — 
the  chief  means  of  locomotion  and  the 
prime  promoter  of  his  love  affairs.  It  is 
Uie  object  about  which  all  the  tender  and 
romantic  associations  of  the  country  cling; 


In  "  God's  Country."  133 

the  supreme  opportunity  of  lovers — the 
resort  in  which  two  souls,  under  fairly 
favorable  conditions,  are  speedily  reduced 
to  the  elementary  substance  of  a  single 
thought.  Its  advantages  can  only  be  fully 
appreciated  by  those  who  have  enjoyed 
them ;  but  the  security  from  intrusion, 
which  is  one  of  them,  will  be  readily  appre 
ciated  by  the  most  obtuse.  To  the  sense 
of  possession  induced  by  the  nearness  of 
the  beloved  object  and  the  absence  of 
other  people  is  added  that  keen  exhilara 
tion  that  comes  of  rapid  motion  without 
effort,  when  one  seems  to  cleave  the  air  as 
with  the  wings  of  a  bird.  The  lover  who 
possesses  a  horse  and  buggy  does  not  sigh 
for  the  wings  of  a  dove,  and  the  one  wru 
does  not  is  practically  out  of  the  race  if  his 
rival  is  fully  equipped.  Whether  he  Is 
speeding  like  a  -shaft  along  the  smooth, 


134  I*  "  God's  Country." 

white  turnpike  in  the  sunlit  glory  of  a  per 
fect  day,  cutting  the  mellow  radiance  of  a 
moonlit  night,  or  loitering  idly  through 
some  flowery  lane  in  the  warm,  odorous 
twilight  of  a  summer  evening,  employing 
the  interval  as  fate  or  feeling  may  dictate, 
he  is  equally  blessed.  He  has  with  him 
at  the  same  moment  the  two  things  dearest 
on  earth,  without  which  heaven  is  void  of 
attraction — his  sweetheart  and  his  horse. 

It  was  the  first  week  in  July,  and  the 
afternoon,  though  breezy,  was  hot.  Lydia 
had  an  engagement  to  drive,  or,  as  she 
would  have  phrased  it,  "  to  ride,"  with  Bev 
erly,  who  a  few  days  before  had  matched 
the  bay  trotter  that  had  been  for  some  time 
his  especial  pride.  The  drive,  which  was  a 
formal  dedication  of  the  new  possession  to 
the  divinity  he  adored,  was  the  last  thej» 
would  take  together  for  a  considerable 


In  "  God's  Country."  135 

time,  for,  as  Beverly  frequently  declared 
with  an  air  of  outraged  proprietorship,  he 
"  never  got  to  look  at  Lyd  after  the  guests 
arrived." 

At  the  appointed  hour  he  came  spinning 
down  the  avenue,  the  flawless  varnish  of  his 
buggy  reflecting  the  sunlight  from  a  mil 
lion  angles  at  once.  Three  negroes  idling 
in  the  stable  lot  turned  at  the  sound  of 
wheels,  and,  recognizing  Beverly,  engaged 
in  a  frantic  foot-race  for  the  privilege  of 
holding  the  horses,  with  an  eye  to  the  tip 
that  would  be  forthcoming  at  the  end  of 
the  vigil.  Beverly,  resplendent  in  a  pair  of 
white  marseilles  trousers  that  fitted  like  the 
fresco  to  a  ceiling,  a  vest  of  the  same  mate 
rial  cut  low  enough  to  expose  three  dia 
mond  studs,  a  white  cravat,  a  dark  cloth 
coat,  and  a  soft  felt  hat  of  a  light  color, 
sprang  out  of  the  vehicle  and  walked  into 


136  In  "  God's  Country." 

the  house  with  the  manner  of  one  quite  at 
home.  In  the  hall  he  met  Meriky. 

"Meriky,  go  see  if  yuh  Miss  Lyd's 
ready,"  he  ordered,  and  than  went  out  on 
the  porch  to  wait.  In  a  few  minutes  the 
Colonel  came  around  the  corner  of  the  house, 
blowing  from  the  fatigue  of  a  short  walk. 
He  wore  a  suit  of  ecru  linen  minus  the  coat, 
freshly  laundered  and  stiffly  starched,  and  a 
broad-brimmed  panama  hat  of  the  finest 
braid.  As  he  edged  into  the  shadow  he 
took  off  his  hat  and  mopped  out  the  lining 
with  a  flowered  silk  handkerchief,  which  he 
returned  to  the  bosom  of  his  waistcoat. 

"  Hello,  Bev." 

"  Good  evenin',  Kunnel." 

"  Whew,  but  it's  hot ! "  exclaimed  the 
Colonel,  as  he  came  up  the  steps.  "  Is 
that  yuh  new  trotter  ? "  he  asked,  as  the 
two  shook  hands. 


In  "  God's  Country."  137 

"Yes,"  replied  Beverly;  "don't  you 
think  it's  a  splendid  match  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it  is.  I  can't  tell  which  is  wtuch 
from  here.  I'll  go  an'  take  a  look  at  'em 
d'rectly.  My  stars !  but  I'm  tired,"  he 
groaned,  as  he  sank  into  a  chair. 

"  Where've  you  been  ?  "  asked  Bev. 

"  I've  been  to  the  creek  pahsture  to  look 
at  a  filly  that  got  hurt  yesterday,  an'  I'm 
about  used  up." 

Outside  a  community  laboring  under  the 
delusion  that  a  man  cannot  move  on  less 
than  four  feet,  it  would  have  appeared  that 
the  Colonel's  weariness  was  absurdly  out 
of  proportion  to  his  exertion ;  but  they 
were  men  of  one  mind,  and  Bev  merely 
inquired  whether  there  was  anything  the 
matter  with  the  gray  mare. 

Meriky  now  appeared  with  the  message 
that  Miss  Liddy  would  be  ready  in  a  minute. 


138  Jn  "  God's  Country." 

"  Have  a  julip  while  you  are  waitin,' 
Rev  ?  "  asked  Colonel. 

"  B'lieve  I  will,  Kunnel." 

Colonel  Ransome  walked  to  the  end  of 
the  porch,  near  which  a  dark  mass  of  rags 
and  glistening  black  limbs  was  tumbling 
about  on  the  grass. 

"Mose!  Elic!  Gabe ! "  he  called,  in 
quick  succession. 

At  the  sound  of  his  voice  the  shapeless 
mass  was  instantly  resolved  into  three 
small  negroes,  who  sprang  up  and  came 
toward  him  with  that  cunning  assumption 
of  awe  that  is  one  of  the  many  wiles  of  the 
race. 

"  Mose,  you  black  vilyun,  run  to  the 
branch  an'  get  some  mint  quick." 

Mose  started  off  at  a  tangent,  his  bare 
black  legs  revolving  around  his  diminutive 
person  like  spokes  around  the  hub  of  a  wheel. 


In  "  God's  Country."  139 

"  Gabe,  you  go  tell  Meriky  to  bring 
some  cracked  ice  an'  some  glasses." 
Gabe  flew  in  another  direction. 

"  Elic,  run  that  chicken  out  yuh  Miss 
Lyddy's  flower-bed,  an'  then  go  back  to  the 
cabin  where  you  b'long.  I'll  whale  the 
life  out  o'  you  black  devils  if  you  don't 
keep  off  my  grass." 

Elic  sped  after  the  chicken  unimpressed 
by  a  threat  so  remote,  indefinite,  and  alto 
gether  doubtful  of  fulfilment. 

"The  varments  are  as  thick  on  this 
place  as  toadstools  after  a  rain,"  said  the 
Colonel,  coming  back  to  his  chair.  "It's 
worse  'n  slave-time.  I'll  swear  I  do'  know 
where  they  come  from." 

"The  worst  of  it  is,"  remarked  Bev, 
"  they  eat  just  as  much  as  the  grown  ones, 
and  they  are  no  earthly  account." 

"  Well,    I    don't    begrudge   any   of   'em 


140  In  "God's  Country." 

what  they  can  hold  ;  but  it  does  rile  me  to 
see  them  that's  old  enough  eat  my  victuals 
all  the  year  roun'  an'  then  vote  the  Re 
publican  ticket  every  chance  they  get." 

"  It  ain't  what  they  eat  as  much  as  what 
they  steal,  that  aggravates  me.  If  you 
want  to  eat  spring  chicken  you've  got  to 
set  under  the  hen-roost  all  night  with  a 
shot-gun  ;  an'  you  just  can't  keep  a  water 
melon  ;  I've  given  that  up.  I'd  rather 
buy  what  I  want  than  bother  with  keepin' 
the  niggers  out  of  the  patch.  As  far  as 
the  votin's  concerned,  I  s'pose  it  is  only 
natural  they  should  vote  with  the  party 
that  freed  'em ;  but  it's  tough  on  us." 

"What's  their  freedom  wuth  to  'em?" 
queried  the  Colonel,  explosively.  "  They 
are  a  million  times  wuss  off — a  million 
times  raggecler,  dirtier,  lazier  than  they've 
ever  been  since  the  first  ship-load  of  the 


In  "  God's  Country  r  141 

damned  war-breedin'  devils  was  landed  at 
Jamestown.  Freedom  !  "  finished  the  Col 
onel,  in  a  burst  of  bitterness. 

"I  know,"  replied  Bev,  soothingly,  "but 
they  can't  see  it  that  way.  They  can  steal 
as  much  as  they  want  now  without  gettin' 
thrashed,  an'  that's  wuth  a  good  deal  to 
'em.  Their  bein'  free  wouldn't  make  so 
much  difference  after  all  if  we  could  only 
get  rid  of  'em  an'  forget  how  it  was  done." 

"  Don't,  Bev,"  said  the  Colonel,  redden 
ing,  "don't  get  me  started  on  that  to-day; 
it's  too  hot." 

Here  Meriky  appeared  with  the  waiter 
containing  the  ice  and  the  glasses,  and  a 
moment  later  the  penetrating  odor  of 
bruised  mint  heralded  the  approach  of 
Mose.  The  Colonel  took  a  bunch  of  keys 
from  his  trousers  pocket,  and  produced 
from  the  long,  narrow  closet  in  the  dining- 


142  In  "  God's  Country." 

room  a  cut-glass  decanter  half  full  of  an 
amber-brown  liquid  that  ran  like  oil.  Bev 
erly  was  full  of  fresh  turf  gossip,  which  he 
reeled  off  gayly  for  the  Colonel's  entertain 
ment  as  they  sipped  their  julep. 

When  the  elastic  feminine  minute  had 
stretched  to  half  an  hour,  Lydia  appeared 
on  the  porch  in  a  dress  of  white  muslin, 
soft  and  voluminous  of  drapery,  with  a 
superabundance  of  sash  that,  as  she 
moved,  rose  and  floated  behind  her  like  a 
cloud.  The  leghorn  hat  with  brim  fantas 
tically  bent,  framed  her  face  picturesquely. 
The  crown  of  it  was  lost  in  vaporous 
wreaths  of  tulle,  and  over  the  brim  fell  a 
streamer  of  the  same  material  that  encir 
cled  her  pearly  throat  and  dropped  forward 
over  the  cluster  of  Jacqueminot  roses  that 
burned  against  her  breast,  veiling  them 
daintily  as  with  a  mist  of  dew.  With  her 


In  "  God's  Country"  143 

complexion,  without  the  roses  the  toilet 
would  have  been  cold  and  meaningless; 
with  that  dash  of  color,  softened  by  the 
film  of  tulle,  it  was  radiant  and  warm  with 
life.  That  last  touch  embodied  the  poetic 
inspiration  of  an  acutely  feminine  tempera 
ment  that  marks  the  distinction  between 
mere  clothes  and  a  sentiment  expressed  in 
fabrics. 

The  effect  upon  Bev  was  simply  stun 
ning.  It  seemed  that  a  cool,  fleecy  cloud 
had  floated  down  to  his  feet  from  some 
region  of  perpetual  snow — a  cloud  pene 
trated  by  one  palpitating,  rosy  gleam,  from 
the  midst  of  which  looked  out  at  him  the 
fairest,  freshest,  brightest  face  he  had  ever 
seen.  There  was  more  intoxication  in  one 
glance  of  her  gold-brown  eyes  than  was 
imprisoned  in  an  entire  bonded  warehouse. 
The  impulse  to  gather  her  into  a  quick, 


144  /«  "  God's  Country  r 

crushing  hug  was  so  sudden  and  so  over 
powering  that  it  was  barely  quelled  by  the 
presence  of  the  Colonel.  It  subsided  ulti 
mately  into  a  consuming  desire  to  melt 
into  a  tulle  streamer. 

"  Have  some,  Lyd  ? "  asked  her  father, 
referring  to  the  contents  of  the  decanter. 

"  It's  mos'  too  hot  for  julip,"  replied 
Lydia,  "but  you  may  gi'  me  a  little  with 
lots  o'  ice  an'  plenty  o'  sugah." 

Beverly  set  down  his  own  glass  and  pro 
ceeded  to  mix  the  tipple  according  to  direc 
tions. 

When  the  glasses  were  emptied,  all  three 
sauntered  down  to  the  gate,  where  Bev's 
purchase  was  minutely  examined  and  ex 
haustively  discussed  in  the  technical  lan 
guage  of  the  turf.  Then  Bev  assisted 
Lydia  into  the  shining  vehicle,  mounted 
after  her,  and  took  up  the  reins  with  that 


///  "  God's  Country."  145 

rapturous  enthusiasm  a  Kentuckian  only 
feels  behind  a  pair  of  flyers  he  believes 
can  beat  anything  on  the  road.  The 
horses,  satin-coated,  clean-limbed,  bright- 
eyed,  groomed  to  the  most  exquisite  polish, 
and  proudly  conscious  of  their  owner's 
pride  in  them,  stepped  out  daintily,  dis 
daining  the  earth,  curveting  coquettishly 
until  the  firm  hand  on  the  rein  brought 
them  down  to  a  steady,  even  trot  that 
quickened  until  team,  vehicle,  the  two  fig 
ures,  the  dangling  legs  of  the  small  darky 
that  had  caught  on  behind  to  open  the  gate 
melted  into  a  single  winged  thing  that 
seemed  to  skim  the  elastic  turf  of  the  ave 
nue  with  the  speed  of  a  swallow.  The  top 
was  down,  and  as  the  buggy  rolled  out  into 
the  road  its  course  was  marked  by  Lydia's 
red  parasol  waving  aloft  like  a  gigantic 

poppy. 
10 


146  In  "  God's  Country." 

"  Bev  will  split  the  pike  wide  open  this 
evenin',''  remarked  the  Colonel,  with  a 
sympathetic  gaze  after  the  vanishing  equip 
age. 

Bev  settled  his  hat  on  his  head  and  with 
the  merest  tap  of  the  whip  urged  the 
horses  to  their  best,  and  for  five  minutes 
sat  behind  them  in  a  speechless  ecstasy  of 
realization.  Then  he  turned  and  looked 
at  Lyd.  She  was  watching  the  horses  with 
a  delight  as  keen  as  his  own,  her  face  lit 
with  the  fine  glow  of  exhilaration  induced 
by  the  fresh  air  and  rapid  motion.  He 
slackened  speed,  and  for  a  moment  seemed 
to  drink  her  with  his  eyes,  then,  darting  a 
quick  look  fore  and  aft,  seized  the  handle 
of  the  red  parasol  and  executed  an  adroit 
manoeuvre. 

"  Ah  ! "  he  exclaimed,  with  a  long  exha 
lation. 


In  "  God's  Country."  147 

"Ain't  you  ashamed  o'  yourself,  Bev, 
right  here  on  the  pike  ?  "  demanded  Miss 
Ransome,  with  a  creditable  show  of  disap 
proval,  instinctively  repeating  the  look  fore 
and  aft  with  which  Bev  had  preluded  his 
coup. 

A  laugh — a  deep  gurgle  of  intense  satis 
faction — was  the  only  reply  to  the  rebuke. 

"  I  couldn't  help  it,  Lyd,"  he  said,  pres 
ently,  with  a  weak  attempt  to  appear  sub 
dued;  "it's  such  a  lingering  eternity  till 
October.  Does  it  seem  long  to  you,  Lyd  ? 
Say  yes,"  he  urged,  with  a  spasmodic  pres 
sure  of  the  hand  that  lay  in  her  lap  and  a 
futile  attempt  to  circumvent  the  hat  brim. 

"  On  the  contrary,  it  seems  very  short," 
replied  Lydia ;  "  and  there  is  such  a  lot  to 
do." 

"Why  should  there  be  such  a  lot  to  do  ? 
I  never  could  see  the  use  of  a  woman's 


148  In  "God's  Country." 

buying  out  creation,  and  making  it  up  into 
frillfralls  before  she  is  married,  just  as  if 
she  never  expected  to  get  anything  after 
wards." 

"Perhaps,"  replied  Miss  Ransome, 
loftily,  "  it's  because  the  men  make  such  a 
fuss  about  the  bills  when  they  do  come  in. 
There's  a  tradition  to  the  effec'  that  you 
can't  tell  anything  about  what  a  man's 
goin'  to  do  aftah  marriage  by  the  way  he 
has  behaved  befoah." 

"  That's  a  base  libel  on  the  sex,  Lyd,  an1 
you  know  it,"  returned  Bev,  with  imper 
turbable  complaisance.  "  You  know,"  he 
went  on,  "  there  is  always  a  great  deal  of 
unnecessary  parade  about  a  weddin'.  Of 
course  the  fuss  an'  flowers  an'  the  frills  are 
a1'  right  for  a  woman;  she  looks  perfectly 
natural  in  the  midst  of  'em,  an'  she  enjoys 
it :  but  it  bores  a  man  to  death,  an'  he 


In  "  God's  Country:1  149 

looks  so  egregiously  idiotic  an'  out  of 
place.  I  nevah  see  a  po'  devil  goin' 
through  the  martyrdom  of  a  big  weddin' 
that  I  don't  feel  like  beatin'  up  a  mob  an' 
goin'  to  the  rescue.  An'  I  b'lieve  all  men 
feel  about  it  just  as  I  do." 

"  I  s'pose  they  do,"  returned  Lydia. 
"  A  man  is  so  use'  to  bein'  first  in  every 
thing,  he  natchally  dislikes  a  situation  in 
which  he  is  not  the  mos'  conspicyus  fig- 
yah." 

"There  is  only  one  woman  in  the  world 
who  could  inveigle  me  into  goin'  through 
with  it,"  remarked  Bev,  impressively,  with 
another  feint  at  the  parasol  handle,  which 
was  deftly  eluded  by  Lydia. 


VII. 

OTHER  eyes  than  those  of  the  Colone. 
watched  Beverly's  buggy  sweeping  along 
the  avenue,  but  with  an  expression  the 
reverse  of  sympathetic.  They  were  the 
eyes  of  Karl,  who  happened  at  the  time  to 
be  crossing  the  lawn.  He  leaned  upon  the 
handle  of  his  rake  and  looked  after  it  until 
it  turned  into  the  road,  and  a  moment  later 
he  saw  the  Colonel  mount  his  horse  and 
ride  away. 

He  had  known  from  the  first  that  Lydia 
was  a  forbidden  joy  to  him,  but  the  sense 
of  her  remoteness  never  oppressed  him  as 
it  did  now.  He  had  watched  her  saunter 
ing  toward  the  gate,  and  thought  he  had 
never  seen  her  look  so  beautiful.  The 


In  "  God's  Country."  151 

spectacle  stirred  him  like  the  swell  of  a 
majestic  cadence.  His  heart  was  full  of 
bitterness,  and  the  emotion  hitherto  fairly 
controlled  rose  and  swept  over  him  in  a 
tempest  of  wrathful,  unreasoning  jealousy. 
He  hated  the  arrogant  young  fellow  who, 
from  the  height  of  undisputed  possession, 
looked  down  upon  him  in  contemptuous 
security.  As  he  turned  back  toward  the 
garden  he  remembered  that  the  house  was 
empty.  Lydia  and  her  father  would  not 
return  until  late;  the  negro  women,  the 
only  persons  who  had  any  business  at  the 
house,  were  at  the  cabin,  most  probably 
asleep.  He  went  to  one  of  the  parlor  win 
dows  that  looked  upon  the  garden,  and 
after  one  or  two  attempts  succeeded  in  pry 
ing  open  the  shutter.  He  put  his  head 
into  the  room  and  listened.  The  house 
was  as  silent  as  a  tomb.  He  climbed  in 


152  In  "  God's  Country." 

and  sat  down  at  the  piano.  How  long  it 
had  been  since  he  had  touched  one  !  His 
fingers,  stiffened  by  manual  labor,  were  at 
first  refractory,  and  the  things  he  had 
known  came  to  him  only  in  fragments.  A 
few  massive  chords  from  the  "  Pilgrims' 
Chorus,"  the  ethereal  song  of  the  Rhine 
daughters,  a  few  measures  of  a  nocturne,  a 
fragment  of  the  Sonata  Pathetique.  He 
wandered  aimlessly  from  theme  to  theme, 
from  opera  to  opera.  The  things  he  most 
loved  came  back  to  him  gradually,  and  he 
played  on,  taking  no  note  of  time.  He 
forgot  his  uncouth  attire,  his  aristocratic 
rival ;  forgot  even  the  despair  that  had  sent 
him  to  the  piano  for  consolation;  forgot 
everything  but  the  heart  within  him  throb 
bing  with  tumultuous  passion,  and  the 
instrument  through  which  it  found  expres 
sion.  It  spoke  for  him  in  divine  melody, 


In  "  God  s  Country"  153 


in  tempestuous  chords,  as  no  feeble  ver 
biage  could  speak;  and  as  the  afternoon 
wore  on  he  sat  there  with  flushed  face  and 
humid  eyes,  pouring  his  soul  out  in  the  old- 
fashioned  parlor  with  its  lofty  ceiling,  dim 
and  cool  as  a  cloister. 

The  buggy  came  back  along  the  avenue 
in  the  fragrant  twilight  of  the  summer  eve 
ning  and  deposited  a  portion  of  its  burden 
at  Colonel  Ransome's  gate. 

"  Won't  you  come  in,  Bev,  and  have  sup 
per  ? "  Lydia  asked,  as  he  handed  her 
down. 

"  No,  thank  you,  Lyd,  not  to-night.  I 
brought  Claude  Graves  out  from  town  with 
me,  an'  I  mus'  go  back  and  keep  him  com 
pany." 

He  broke  a  rose  from  the  cluster  she 
wore  and  stuck  it  in  his  button-hole  before 
climbing  back  to  his  seat.  Lvdia  stood 


154  /«  '  God's  Country." 

looking  after  him  a  moment  as  the  buggy 
rolled  away. 

"  Bev  looked  perfec'ly  stunnin'  this  even- 
in',"  she  said.  The  thought  in  her  mind 
was  that  he  had  not  been  particularly 
entertaining,  and  that  in  spite  of  the  excite 
ment  of  the  new  horse  the  drive  had  been 
tiresome.  She  was  in  a  mood  to  resent 
the  air  of  proprietorship  Bev  had  recently 
begun  to  assume.  He  was  entirely  too 
confident;  it  was  almost  as  if  she  were 
married.  As  she  walked  slowly  toward  the 
house  she  wished  there  had  never  been  a 
mortgage,  or  at  least  that  Bev  had  not 
come  between  her  father  and  bankruptcy. 
If  anything  should  happen  that  she  did  not 
marry  him  the  obligation  would  be  awk 
ward.  There  was  nothing  to  happen,  of 
course.  She  had  always  intended  marry 
ing  him  ;  she  would  have  married  him  if 


In  "  God's  Country."  155 

there  had  been  no  mortgage ;  but  for  th3 
last  few  days  her  father's  obligation  to  Bev 
had  haunted,  harassed  her,  and  this  was 
the  more  singular,  since  up  to  that  time  it 
had  not  disturbed  her  any  more  than  if  she 
had  been  unaware  of  its  existence.  She 
was  weighed  down  by  a  mental  depression 
wholly  unaccounted  for.  It  was  the  first 
pull  on  the  tether  that  until  now  she  had 
not  felt.  When  she  got  into  the  house  she 
thought  she  heard  the  piano.  She  went  to 
the  parlor  door  and  looked  in.  Seated  at 
the  instrument  was  Karl,  oblivious  of 
everything  but  the  sounds  he  conjured 
from  it.  The  window  through  which  he 
had  entered  was  still  open,  and  the  light  of 
the  moon  just  rising  streamed  over  him. 
She  had  always  been  keenly  alive  to  the 
refined  beauty  of  his  face,  but  she  had 
never  seen  it  as  she  saw  it  now.  He  was 


156  In  "  God's  Country'' 

playing  Chopin's  nocturne  in  G  major. 
She  did  not  know  what  it  was,  but  the 
beautiful  rippling  effect  of  the  successive 
thirds  and  sixths  with  which  it  opens 
reminded  her  one  moment  of  the  splash 
and  flow  of  water,  the  next,  as  it  sank  to 
the  faintest  pianissimo,  of  the  leaves  gos 
siping  in  soft  whispers  overhead.  Then 
came  the  exquisite  melody  of  the  second 
movement,  with  the  long  note  in  the  bass 
that  was  like  the  dip  of  an  oar.  Piano 
first,  then  forte,  dying  away  again  to  an 
echo,  as  if  a  boatman  had  passed  singing 
in  the  moonlight,  and  the  leaves  murmured, 
and  the  stream  rippled  on.  Karl's  back 
was  toward  the  door,  and  he  had  not  seen 
her  enter.  She  approached  softly  and 
sank  into  an  arm-chair  near  the  piano. 
He  paused  only  for  a  moment.  This  time 
it  was  the  funeral  march  from  the  first 


In  "  God's  Country:'  157 

sonata.  The  heavy  alternating  chords  in 
the  bass  were  like  the  rhythmic  tramp  of 
armed  men.  The  opening  measure  was  a 
knell,  and  then  the  funeral  chant,  heavy 
with  anguish,  rose  like  the  wail  of  a  nation 
mourning  its  last  hope.  The  sobbing 
chords  of  the  minor  harmony  freighted 
with  the  tragedy,  the  heartbreak  of  a  thou 
sand  defeats,  wrung  her,  weighed  her  down 
as  with  the  agony  of  a  personal  grief. 
Then  out  of  the  tumult  and  anguish  of  the 
chant  the  heavenly  melody  of  the  trio 
soared  like  the  prayer  of  faith.  It  was^her 
misfortune  at  that  moment  that  she  pos 
sessed  the  rare  faculty  of  instantly  recog 
nizing  beauty,  whether  expressed  in  form 
or  sound.  For  an  ear  naturally  acute,  the 
sublime  harmonies  of  Chopin  needed  no 
interpreter;  to  a  temperament  peculiarly 
susceptible,  that  majestic  epic  of  deso- 


158  In  "God's  Country." 

lation  was  a  new  language.  She  had 
learned  music  as  other  girls  she  knew  had 
learned  it,  after  the  manner  of  boarding- 
schools,  and  her  knowledge  was  confined 
to  the  flashy  and  frivolous  dances,  the  sen 
timental  themes  with  variations  on  a  level 
with  the  understanding  of  those  who  regard 
it  as  an  accomplishment  and  nothing  more. 
She  had  never  dreamed  that  it  was  a  lan 
guage  capable  of  conveying  the  most  vivid 
impressions,  of  embodying  the  whole  range 
of  emotion  from  the  delicate,  ethereal  ten 
derness  of  a  dream  of  love,  to  the  despair 
ing  wail  of  a  nation  borne  down  by  the 
anguish  of  ultimate  defeat.  She  could  not 
analyze  the  impressions  she  received,  she 
could  only  feel  with  the  intensity  of  a  finely 
sensitive  organism.  She  ached  as  with  the 
pang  of  unutterable  grief.  The  trio  died 
away  and  the  wail  rose  again.  Her  head 


In  "  God's  Country:'  159 

drooped  against  the  back  of  the  chair,  and 
the  tears  fell  rapidly  on  the  hands  folded 
in  her  lap.  When  the  last  heavy  note  of 
agony  died  away,  she  felt  that  she  could 
not  have  endured  another  measure.  Karl 
sat  for  a  moment  irresolute,  then  his  fingers 
again  sought  the  keys,  running  over  them 
in  rippling  arpeggios,  and  then  he  began  to 
sing,  to  a  subdued  accompaniment,  Rubin 
stein's  air  to  Heine's  lyric,  "Thou  art  so 
like  a  flower."  He  sang  in  German,  and 
she  could  not  understand  it,  but  she  knew 
he  was  singing  of  her,  and  the  last  strain 
of  the  song  was  like  a  benediction.  When 
he  had  finished  he  turned  slowly  round 
upon  the  stool  and  saw  the  white  gar 
mented  figure  in  the  chair,  just  beyond  the 
oblique  square  of  moonlight  that  lay  upon 
the  floor. 

Was   it   an   apparition   conjured   by  his 


160  In  "  God's  Country." 

own  intense  desire?  He  sprang  toward  it 
with  a  quick,  joyful  cry.  It  was  no  shad 
ow.  The  hand  within  his  own  was  warm, 
and  its  pulse  quickened  at  his  touch ;  the 
eyes  returned  his  gaze  with  a  fixed  inten 
sity.  As  Karl  knelt  beside  her  chair,  his 
figure  was  obscure  in  the  gloom  of  the 
room.  Lydia  saw  only  his  face,  as  he 
leaned  into  the  moonlight,  approaching 
her  slowly  but  steadily.  She  knew  it  was 
the  gardener  who  knelt  there ;  she  was 
acutely  sensible  of  the  guilt  and  humilia 
tion  of  the  moment,  but  she  could  not  stir. 
She  was  seized  with  a  sudden  terror  as  of 
a  force  imminent,  unmeasured,  as  the  face 
drew  slowly  nearer,  the  eyes  burning  with 
a  soul-compelling  passion  whose  prayer 
was  destiny.  It  seemed  strange  to  her 
that  will  as  well  as  strength  had  failed. 
It  was  her  wonder  and  her  humiliation  that 


In  "  God's  Country."  161 

there  was  not  even  a  desire  to  escape.  It 
was  like  a  dream  in  which  life  seems  to 
hang  upon  flight,  and  flight  is  impossible. 
The  face  came  nearer.  She  knew  what 
would  happen;  she  felt  the  disgrace  of  it ; 
she  was  curiously  occupied  with  the  sudden 
failure  of  volition,  and  the  equally  sudden 
birth  of  that  mysterious  impulse  within  her 
which,  in  spite  of  her  terror  at  what  it 
involved,  yearned  toward  him  with  strange, 
impatient  expectancy.  At  last  she  felt  his 
breath  upon  her  hair,  his  lips  upon  her 
own.  The  room  reeled,  and  chaos  was 
come.  With  an  eager,  impetuous  move 
ment  Karl  gathered  her  in  his  arms, 
buried  his  face  in  the  soft  folds  of  illusion 
and  the  cool  fragrance  of  the  roses  on  her 
breast,  and  for  one  delicious  moment 
exulted,  revelled  like  a  bee  at  the  heart  of 

a   flower.     It  was  but  an    instant.     There 
ii 


162  In  "  God's  Country." 

was  a  step  in  the  hall,  and  with  another 
hurried  pressure  of  the  lips,  Karl  vanished 
through  the  open  window,  crushing  a  rose 
in  his  hand. 

The  step  was  Mericky's.  She  was  com 
ing  to  tell  Lydia  that  her  father  had 
returned  and  supper  was  ready.  Lydia 
paid  no  attention  to  the  summons.  When 
the  girl  had  gone,  she  rose  with  the  semi- 
consciousness  of  one  hypnotized,  and  went 
up-stairs.  She  locked  the  door,  threw  her 
hat  on  the  bed,  and  sat  down  in  the  rocker 
by  the  window. 

"  Ich  sterbe  fur  dich,"  he  had  said,  as  his 
head  sank  on  her  breast ;  and  the  impas 
sioned  energy  of  the  utterance  was  an  ade 
quate  translation  of  the  sentiment. 

What  was  the  breezy  confidence  of  Bev's 
wooing  to  that  heart-wringing  supplication  ? 

There  was  no  light  in  the  room,  but  by 


In  "  God's  Country"  163 

her  chair  there  lay  an  oblique  square  of 
moonlight  like  the  one  that  fell  at  her  feet 
in  the  parlor.  She  fancied  she  could 
almost  see  the  kneeling  figure  of  Karl  lean 
ing  toward  her.  She  closed  her  eyes  and 
saw  again  the  glowing  face  approaching 
her  through  the  dusk ;  felt  the  breath  upon 
her  hair,  the  touch  upon  her  lips  ;  and  at 
the  thought,  as  at  the  touch,  a  wave  of 
exquisite  emotion  swept  over  her,  a  surg 
ing  fire  filled  her  veins.  When  she  opened 
her  eyes  the  image  vanished,  the  sensation 
was  dissipated.  Again  and  again  she 
retraced  each  moment  of  the  time  from  her 
entrance  to  the  disappearance  of  Karl ; — 
how  he  looked  when  she  went  in,  sitting 
there  with  the  moonlight  streaming  over 
his  face,  that  shone  with  a  new  and  start 
ling  radiance ;  the  soft  murmur  of  the 
nocturne,  the  fainting  diminuendo  of  the 


164  In  "  God's  Country:1 

gondolied,  the  sobbing  harmony  of  the 
dirge,  the  ethereal  strains  of  the  trio,  that 
melodious  benediction  that  was  like  the 
"  Peace  be  with  you  "  of  an  angel ;  the 
kneeling  figure,  the  eyes  burning  through 
the  dusk,  the  face  coming  nearer,  the 
strange  quiescence  that  held  her,  and  then 
that  tumultuous  crescendo  of  emotion  that 
was  at  once  an  awakening  and  a  revela 
tion.  Again  and  again  she  realized  it  in 
all  its  original  vividness  and  intensity. 
That  mysterious  force  with  which  his  touch 
had  charged  her  swept  up  in  successive 
waves  of  new,  delicious  life  ;  she  swam  in  a 
sea  of  delight,  across  which  the  sublime 
strains  of  the  march,  the  soothing  ripple  of 
the  nocturne,  floated  like  the  echo  of  an 
echo  as  she  lived  again  the  delirious 
ecstasy  of  supreme  surrender.  By-and-by 
the  sensation  became  less  and  less  vivid 


In  "God's  Country:1  165 

with  each  return,  until  it  eluded  her  alto 
gether,  and  the  fevered  mood  was  suc 
ceeded  by  a  cold  stupor. 

The  moon  that  was  just  above  the  tree- 
tops  when  she  went  up-stairs,  swept  over 
and  dipped  to  westward.  The  dense 
shadow  that  lay  upon  the  garden  retreated 
before  it,  and  in  the  windless  night  each 
shrub  and  leaf  was  sharply  etched  upon 
the  white  wall  of  the  house.  The  moon 
went  down ;  the  breeze  blew  fresh  in  the 
starry  dusk  between  night  and  day;  dusk 
paled  to  dawn  ;  the  east  caught  fire,  and 
its  glow  suffused  the  room  and  its  listless 
occupant.  A  blue  spiral  of  smoke  rose 
from  the  chimney  at  the  end  of  the  L,  and 
from  the  same  quarter  came  the  regular, 
ponderous  stroke  of  the  rolling-pin  with 
which  Cynthy  was  beating  the  biscuit  for 
breakfast.  Between  the  strokes  the 


166  In  "  God's  Country." 

strains  of  a  hymn  rose  with  all  the  paucity 
of  sentiment  and  monotony  of  melody  that 
distinguish  the  negro  song.  A  procession 
of  negroes  passed  under  the  window,  sing 
ing  on  their  way  to  the  field  ;  then  Meriky 
came  to  call  Lydia.  She  got  up  now  to 
change  her  dress  for  something  more  suit 
able  for  an  appearance  at  breakfast.  The 
sun  was  high ;  her  father,  impatient  for  his 
morning  meal,  walked  up  and  down  the 
porch,  whistling  "The  Bonny  Blue  Flag," 
and  Karl  was  hoeing  in  the  garden.  It 
seemed  to  her  that  the  entire  solar  system 
had  been  on  a  stupendous  drunk  the  night 
before,  reeling  through  space  at  a  reckless 
rate.  It  was  strange  to  see  it  moving  on 
in  the  same  old  way  this  morning  ;  strang 
est  of  all  to  see  Karl  hoeing  placidly,  as  if 
the  shell  of  a  new  world  had  not  cracked 
twelve  hours  before. 


VIII. 

THE  day  was  full  of  bustle  and  prepara 
tion.  The  friends  who  for  the  last  two 
months  had  visited  them  in  occasional 
showers  were  to  settle  the  next  week  in  a 

steady  inundation.     Some  of  them  were  to 

i 

arrive  the  following  day ;  and  Lydia,  while 
occupied  with  preparations  for  their  recep 
tion,  was  intently  engaged  on  the  problem 
which  Karl's  recent  audacity  had  presented 
for  solution.  What  to  do  with  him  after 
that,  was  the  question.  She  felt  that  the 
only  safe  thing  to  do  was  to  send  him 
away  immediately.  But  here  a  difficulty 
arose :  she  had  so  often  praised  his  effi 
ciency  and  his  willingness  to  her  father 

.that,  if  she  attempted  to  urge  his  dismissal, 
167 


1 68  ///  "God's  Country  r 

some  very  excellent  reason  must  be  forth 
coming,  and  there  was  none  at  hand.  The 
real  one  was  not  to  be  dreamed  of  for  a 
moment  as  the  one  to  be  advanced  ;  and 
though  the  day  was  spent  in  painful  stress 
of  thought,  night  left  her  where  the  morn 
ing  had  found  her — wholly  at  sea.  In  the 
midst  of  her  confusion  and  distress  she 
was  secretly  pleased  that  she  had  failed 
to  find  a  plausible  reason  for  recommend 
ing  his  discharge.  She  did  not  see  Karl 
that  day.  She  allowed  him  to  cut  the 
flowers  to  fill  the  vases,  a  thing  he  had 
never  done  before,  and  she  did  not  go  near 
the  garden. 

The  summer  to  which  she  had  looked 
forward  with  such  keen  zest  palled  upon 
her  suddenly.  She  wished  wearily  that 
there  were  some  means  of  escape  from  the 
duties  and  responsibilities  that  had 


In  "  God's  Country''  169 

hitherto  been  a  pleasure  to  her.  The  next 
moment  she  looked  forward  eagerly  to  the 
arrival  of  the  guests  as  to  something  that 
was  to  relieve  her  from  herself,  and  dis 
tract  her  from  that  harrowing  self-examina 
tion.  She  could  come  to  no  decision  in 
regard  to  Karl,  and  she  finally  turned  away 
from  the  subject  from  sheer  weariness. 
The  advance  party  of  guests  arrived  and 
took  possession  of  the  Colonel's  premises. 
The  dim  upper  chambers,  so  long  empty, 
rang  with  gay  gossip  and  idle  mirth.  In  a 
week  the  house  was  full,  and  when  these 
were  gone  there  were  others  to  come. 
The  day  was  full  of  rides  and  drives,  of 
savory  feasts  and  odorous  juleps,  of  excur 
sions  to  the  river,  of  visits  in  the  neighbor 
hood,  of  croquet  and  luscious  luncheons  of 
water-melon  eaten  on  the  grass  under  the 
trees;  of  love-making,  of  idle  gallantry,  of 


170  In  "  God's  Country:1 

turf  gossip  and  poker;  of  juicy  jest  and 
spicy  story  that  flowed  with  the  after-din 
ner  wine  ;  of  girls,  youthful,  sparkling  with 
animation,  blooming  in  the  thinnest,  most 
ethereal,  and  gayest  of  gay  toilets ;  and  of 
men,  young,  middle-aged,  or  elderly,  who 
were  chiefly  engaged  in  making  life  inter 
esting  to  them.  At  night  there  was  dan 
cing  in  the  parlor,  that  looked  as  if  it  might 
have  been  built  for  the  ball-room  of  a  sum 
mer  resort ;  moonlight  drives,  more  water 
melons,  more  juleps,  and  more  poker. 
Dave  with  his  fiddle,  and  Tom  with  a 
banjo  that  bore  but  slight  resemblance  to 
the  dapper  instrument  that  has  been 
adopted  by  polite  society,  furnished  music 
for  the  dance.  The  banjo  was  made  of 
the  rim  of  a  discarded  sifter,  fitted  with  a 
rude  neck  guiltless  of  frets,  and  usually 
strung  with  horse-hair,  but  Tom  succeeded 


In  "  God's  Country."  171 

in  getting  a  marvellous  amount  of  sound 
out  of  it  that  was  not  unmusical.  Late  into 
the  night  the  smallest  of  feet  in  the  most 
absurdly  high  heels  and  the  most  acutely 
pointed  of  toes  pattered  to  the  strains  of 
"  Captain  Jinks  "  or  "  Dixie,"  none  the 
less  inspiring  as  a  dance  tune  because  it 
had  borne  so  many  brave  men  to  their 
death. 

For  the  round-dances  the  girls  took  turns 
at  the  piano,  and  the  rollicking  measures  of 
the  quadrille  were  superseded  by  the  "  Blue 
Danube,"  "  Lauderbach,"  and  "Cham 
pagne  Charley."  This  was  a  trifle  labori 
ous,  besides  depriving  the  girl  who  played 
of  the  pleasure  of  dancing.  It  occurred  to 
Lydia  one  evening  to  ask  Karl  to  play  for 
them.  He  replied  with  a  disdainful  wave 
of  his  hand  toward  the  parlor : 

"For  you  I  vill  do  anyding,  for  dem  I 


1 72  In  "  God's  Country." 

vill  do  netting ; "   and  the  girls  continued 
to  take  turns. 

The  older  men  and  those  who  did  not 
dance  found  amusement  equally  to  their 
taste.  The  wide  hall,  open  at  both  ends  to 
the  breeze,  was  filled  with  tables,  about 
which  they  gathered ;  and  here  the  unfail 
ing  stream  of  turf  talk  flowed  on,  inter 
rupted  only  by  the  clink  of  crushed  ice  and 
the  rattle  of  poker  chips.  The  wind, 
sweeping  over  the  dewy  flower-beds,  came 
in  moist  and  fragrant,  mingling  the  delight 
ful  odors  of  the  garden  with  the  scent  of 
mint.  Round  every  hammock  and  rustic 
seat  on  the  lawn  floated  a  pale  mist  of  mus 
lin,  and  near  it  hovered  the  dark  silhouettt^ 
whose  proximity  added  the  touch  of  senti 
ment  that  completed  the  picture.  Out  in 
the  starlit  dusk  of  the  garden  or  in  the 
dim  shadows  of  the  porch  above  stood 


In  "  God's  Country."  173 

Karl,  watching  the  crowd  through  the  open 
window,  chafing  at  the  spectacle  of  Lydia 
floating,  unmindful  of  him  and  his  aching 
heart,  through  the  mazy  revel  of  the  qua 
drille  or  the  whirling  eddies  of  the  waltz. 

In  August  came  the  World's  Fair,  which 
nobody  thought  of  missing.  Not  a  fair, 
strictly  speaking,  but  a  horse  show,  at 
which  some  of  the  finest  blooded  stock  in 
the  State  was  exhibited.  The  World's 
Fair,  with  its  incomparable  burgoo,  the 
lavish  abundance  of  its  dinners  eaten  un 
der  the  trees,  where  the  Kentuckian  met 
everybody  he  had  ever  known,  and  the 
stranger  was  told  he  could  feast  his  eyes  on 
the  daintiest  specimens  of  horse-flesh  and 
the  loveliest  gathering  of  women  he  was 
ever  likely  to  encounter ;  where  one  could 
sample  the  native  beverage  in  its  purity, 
and  dine  off  a  saddle  of  mutton  that  would 


174  In  "  God's  Country." 

haunt  him  ever  after  as  one  of  the  tender- 
est  memories  of  his  life. 

The  season  waxed  and  waned.  From 
July  until  the  middle  of  October — for  the 
country  was  more  delightful  in  autumn 
than  in  summer — the  gay,  convivial  life 
flowed  on.  For  the  first  time  since  she 
had  entered  upon  it,  Lydia  was  not  ab 
sorbed  by  it.  Instead  of  bearing  her  with 
it  as  before,  it  seemed  to  float  by  her  like 
a  panorama.  She  was  living  two  lives — the 
one  open,  gay,  imperious,  full  of  the  hom 
age  of  an  admiring  throng,  and  the  small 
concerns  of  every-day  life ;  the  other  se 
cret,  deep,  intense,  jealously  guarded  from 
th^  "rorld  about  her  and  from  the  too  strict 
scrutiny  of  her  own  conscience.  Once, 
when  tired  and  heated  by  the  dance,  she 
had  gone  to  the  parlor  window  that  opened 
on  the  garden  and  seen  a  pallid,  wistful 


In  "  God's  Country"  175 

face  looking  at  her  from  the  gloom,  and 
always  after  that  she  felt  it  to  be  there, 
whether  she  saw  it  or  not.  Drawn  by  an 
irresistible  fascination,  she  would  leave  the 
dance  and  scan  the  shadowy  recesses  of 
the  garden  for  the  face  whose  settled  sad 
ness  filled  her  with  a  strange  tumult,  an 
agony  of  self-reproach.  Alone  in  her 
room,  when  the  sound  of  the  fiddle  and  the 
rattle  of  chips  had  ceased,  in  the  moonlit 
silence  of  that  retreat,  full  of  the  odorous 
breath  of  the  garden,  she  hugged  the  se 
cret  that  was  her  supremest  joy  and  bitter 
est  humiliation.  Her  father's  obligation  to 
Bev  was  the  cable  of  unyielding  fibre  that 
held  her  to  her  promise ;  but  had  there 
been  no  obligation  and  no  promise,  Karl 
w»T  ;  equally  remote.  She  could  not  sur 
render  herself  to  a  man  whom  the  world, 
her  world,  held  in  contempt.  She  could 


176  In  "  God's  Country." 

not  bear  the  thought  of  being  handed  down 
in  the  tradition  of  the  neighborhood  as 
that  handsome  girl  of  Ransome's  who  mar 
ried  a  Dutch  gardener.  No  one  else  would 
ever  see  in  him  what  she  had  seen.  To 
all  the  world  he  was  a  Dutch  gardener, 
and  nothing  more ;  and  the  world  would 
remember  him  always  as  her  father's  ser 
vant.  And  she — she  could  never  forget 
that  on  one  occasion  but  for  her  interfer 
ence  he  would  have  blacked  her  father's 
shoes.  But  she  loved  him ;  and  all  the 
arbitrary  distinctions,  the  petty  conven 
tions,  in  Christendom  could  not  abate  one 
pang  of  the  fierce,  impatient  yearning  with 
which  her  heart  went  out  to  him  in  the 
deep  silen.ce  of  the  night.  He  suffered 
without  the  dismal  consolation  of  knowing 
that  she  suffered  with  him.  This  was  the 
bitterest  pang  of  all — that,  out  of  the  over- 


In  "God's  Country."  177 

flowing  abundance  of  her  heart,  she  dare 
not  throw  him  a  drop  of  comfort.  To  a 
woman  as  finely  organized  as  she,  and 
trained,  as  she  had  been,  to  the  strictest 
code  in  matters  of  the  heart,  her  false  at 
titude  towards  Bev  was  a  constant  pain. 
How  Bev  would  scorn  her  if  he  knew  the 
truth  !  A  cold  shudder  passed  over  her  at 
the  thought  of  her  father.  The  agony  of 
the  knowledge  that  she  was  at  heart  a 
traitor  to  her  father,  to  his  honor,  to  his 
rigid  ideas  of  class,  to  everything  she  had 
been  taught  to  reverence,  was  unbearable. 
She  loved  her  father  with  a  love  highly  sea 
soned  with  admiration  and  with  just  that 
touch  of  awe  that  made  it  ideally  filial ; 
and  the  possibility  of  his  ever  looking  upon 
her  with  other  emotions  than  those  of  love 
and  pride  pierced  her  with  unutterable 

anguish.     She  had  hoped  she  would  be  so 
12 


178  In  "God's  Country." 

much  occupied  with  her  guests  that  she 
would  have  no  time  to  think ;  but  the  cur 
rent  of  her  thought  set  so  strongly  inward 
that  the  festivities  which  absorbed  them 
were  but  a  passing  interruption  to  her. 
She  could  not  conquer  the  feeling  through 
which  she  suffered,  but  she  could  drape  the 
ignoble  yearning  in  the  dignity  of  supreme 
renunciation ;  and  she  did  that.  She 
treated  Karl  with  a  lofty  disdain,  whose 
edge  pierced  them  both  at  the  same 
instant.  During  the  day  she  revenged  her 
own  sufferings  and  humiliation  upon  him 
without  mercy,  in  the  manifold  exquisite 
cruelties  that  only  a  woman  and  a  refined 
nature  can  devise,  and  at  night  wept  over 
him  in  passionate  abandonment  of  remorse. 
She  remembered  with  a  thrill  the  splendid 
audacity  of  that  "  Ich  sterbe  fur  dich,"  the 
pathos  of  that  "  Liebchen."  She  heard  it 


In  "  God's  Country."  179 

yet,  heard  it  always ;  through  the  breezy 
chatter  of  the  crowd,  and  in  the  stillness  of 
the  night  when  they  slept ;  and  meanwhile 
the  waning  summer  was  bearing  her  on 
into  the  blazing  heart  of  autumn,  towarcl 
the  marriage  she  knew  to  be  as  unfair  to 
Bev  as  it  was  distasteful  to  herself. 

They  were  gone  at  last.  The  great 
house  was  empty  again.  Lydia  was  be 
coming  accustomed  to  the  dull  pain  that 
gnawed  her,  and  there  was  not  so  much 
time  to  think  of  it,  for  the  wedding  was  at 
hand,  and  in  the  rush  of  preparation  every 
thing  else  was  obscured.  The  landscape 
had  put  on  its  autumn  tints,  the  seed-pods 
in  the  garden  were  dry,  and  only  a  few  late 
flowers  lingered.  Lydia  had  been  very 
busy  ud  day  ;  she  was  tired  and  depressed, 
and,  glad  to  escape  for  a  moment  from  the 
innumerable  questions  of  the  servants,  who 


i8o  ///  "  God's  Country." 

never  seemed  to  know  what  to  do  with 
anything,  came  out  on  the  east  porch  and 
sat  down  in  the  ample  rocker  that  stood 
invitingly  near.  The  air  was  still  balmy, 
and  it  came  to  her  laden  with  the  odor  of 
fennel  and  ambrosia.  Karl,  who  had  been 
putting  some  flowers  away  in  the  pit,  fin 
ished  his  work  as  the  sun  went  down,  and, 
after  putting  on  his  coat,  came  toward  the 
the  house.  Lydia  thought  wearily  that  he 
was  coming  to  ask  what  she  wanted  done 
the  next  day;  and  she  was  so  tired  of 
being  asked  what  she  wanted  done.  He 
came  close  up  to  the  porch,  but  did  not 
come  in. 

"  I  am  going  avay  in  de  morning,"  he 
said.  "  May  I  say  good-bye  to  you  ? " 

When  he  looked  at  her  her  face  was  so 
blank  that  he  thought  she  had  not  heard 
him. 


In  "God's  Country."  181 

"  Where  are  you  goin'  ?"  she  asked  pres 
ently. 

"  Back  to  my  gountry — to  Germany." 

Certainly !  why  should  he  not  go  ?  The 
summer  was  over ;  they  did  not  need  a 
gardener  any  longer ;  she  would  never 
need  him  again.  She  saw  that  the  depart 
ure  was  opportune,  but  she  was  stunned; 
for  a  moment  she  felt  as  if  she  had  been 
struck  on  the  head. 

"Will  you  do  me  de  honor  to  shake 
hands  mit  me  ? "  he  asked,  with  that 
appealing  glance  that  never  failed  to  melt 
her,  though  she  might  give  no  sign. 

"When  are  you  goin'?"  she  asked,  as 
she  held  out  her  hand. 

"  In  de  morning  before  you  vill  be  up. 
Dat  is  vy  I  gome  to  say  good-bye  to-night." 
He  held  the  hand  while  he  answered  her, 
then  pressed  his  lips  to  it.  "  I  wish  you 


1 82  In  "God's  Country." 

may  be  happy,"  he  said,  at  last,  r  :d  his 
voice  faltered  a  little  on  the  last  word. 
Then  he  put  on  his  hat  and  went  out  at  the 
gate. 

After  all  that  she  had  made  him  suffer 
through  that  miserable  summer,  he  wished 
she  might  be  happy,  and  he  was  gone. 
She  had  seen  his  face  for  the  last  time. 
Somehow,  in  the  multitudinous  chances 
she  had  considered  in  relation  to  him,  his 
going  away,  the  most  probable  of  all,  she 
had  not  thought  of.  It  seemed  now  as  if 
it  could  not  be.  What  would  life  be  like 
when  she  did  not  see  him  every  day  ?  The 
sad  face,  the  faltering  voice,  wrung  her 
heart ;  and  the  agony  must  find  relief. 
She  fled  up-stairs  to  the  room  that  had 
been  the  scene  of  so  many  bitter  co-flicts, 
locked  the  door,  and,  throwing  herself  face 
downward  on  the  bed,  let  the  storm  sweep 


In  "  God's  Country."  183 

over  her.  She  did  not  go  down  to  supper, 
but  lay  on  the  bed ;  and  the  tempest  raged 
and  swelled  until  it  seemed  that  life  itself 
would  be  extinguished  in  the  stress. 

It  spent  itself  at  last,  and  through  the 
calm  that  followed  there  shone  a  gleam  of 
triumph.  The  fight  was  over  and  she  had 
won  it.  She  looked  back  on  that  long, 
bitter  summer  with  a  sudden  sense  of  awe, 
realizing  for  the  first  time  how  great  the 
peril  had  been.  She  had  not  known  how 
much  she  loved  him  till  this  moment ;  but 
he  was  going  away  in  the  morning — the 
last  fiery  ordeal  was  past.  Next  week  she 
would  be  married,  and  her  path  hereafter, 
if  not  flowery,  would  at  least  be  smooth. 
None  but  herself  would  ever  know  of  her 
infidelity  to  Bev,  and  she  would  atone  for 
it  by  every  tender  ministration  that  a 
secret  penitence  could  suggest.  As  she 


184  In  "  God's  Country." 

lay  there  she  thought  of  the  serenade  Karl 
had  sung  the  first  time  she  saw  him.  She 
had  so  wanted  to  hear  it  again,  but  she 
could  never  bring  herself  to  ask  him  to  sing 
it.  She  felt  as  if  she  could  ask  him  now. 
Why  should  she  not  ?  She  was  stronger 
now,  strong  with  the  assurance  of  victory, 
and  it  could  make  no  difference  except  to 
soften  the  thorny  memories  of  the  darkest 
period  of  her  life.  A  delicious  glow 
passed  over  her  at  the  thought  of  seeing 
him  again.  There  were  only  three  persons 
in  the  house — herself,  her  father,  and  Karl. 
Her  father  slept  down-stairs  in  the  front  of 
the  house ;  Karl  was  away  at  the  end  of 
the  L  >  no  one  but  her  could  hear  him,  and 
nobody  would  ever  know.  Why  should 
she  not  have  this  small  pleasure  to  temper 
the  memories  of  that  bitter  summer  ?  And 
might  she  not,  now  that  all  was  over,  say 


In  "  God's  Country:  185 

something  kindly  that  would  mitigate  the 
equally  dismal  remembrance  that  Karl 
must  carry  away  ?  With  the  energy  of  sud 
den  resolve,  she  rose.  In  going  to  the 
gardener's  room  she  experienced  no  sense 
of  impropriety  or  confusion  :  she  did  not 
know  how  long  she  had  been  lying  there, 
did  not  have  the  least  idea  of  the  time  of 
night ;  but  a  faint  glow  from  the  window 
at  the  end  of  the  porch  showed  her  that 
Karl's  lamp  was  still  burning  and  that  he 
had  not  gone  to  bed. 

Her  hair  had  come  down  and  was  tum 
bling  about  her  neck ;  she  whipped  it  out 
and  caught  it  back  with  a  hairpin,  took  up 
the  guitar,  and  skirted  the  shadowy  porch 
to  the  room  over  the  kitchen.  The  win 
dow  was  open  and  she  could  see  Karl  sit 
ting  in  the  middle  of  the  room  with  his 
head  bowed  upon  his  hands.  She  tapped 


186  In  "God's  Country." 

lightly  on  the  pane.  He  looked  up  and 
saw  her  standing  in  the  dim  light  with  the 
guitar  in  her  hand. 

"  Karl,"  she  said,  "  I  want  you  to  sing 
me  that  song  before  you  go — the  one  you 
sung  me  that  day  for  your  dinner." 

He  came  forward  and  took  the  instru 
ment.  He  saw  she  had  been  crying,  but 
the  experience  of  the  summer  had  been  so 
crushing,  he  was  so  subdued  by  her  past 
behavior,  that  he  did  not  dream  the  tears 
were  for  him. 

"  You  are  grieved  for  some  ding,"  he 
said,  with  touching  sympathy. 

He  opened  the  door  and  gave  her  a 
chair,  and,  sitting  near  her  on  the  sill  of 
the  window,  began  to  sing  the  song  with  all 
the  tenderness  and  pathos  his  own  yearn 
ing  and  bitter  disappointment  could  put 
into  it.  It  brought  back  all  the  old  tumult. 


In  "  God's  Country."  187 

She  saw  now,  when  it  was  too  late, 
that  she  had  overestimated  her  strength. 
When  he  finished,  she  was  sobbing ;  and 
in  an  instant  he  was  kneeling  by  her  chair, 
raising  to  her  a  face  sad,  searching,  but 
shining  with  the  tremulous  glow  of  a  hope 
just  born. 

"  You  weep.     Liebchen,  is  it  for  me  ? " 

She  did  not  answer,  but  laid  a  hand 
gently  on  his  head  and  looked  at  him, 
with  all  the  pent  yearning  of  her  full  heart, 
all  the  agony  of  that  long,  weary  struggle, 
and  all  the  pathos  of  defeat  in  her  eyes. 
It  was  no  use.  At  that  moment  it  seemed 
that  there  was  nothing  else  in  the  world 
but  him.  Everything  else  was  remote, 
dim,  and  unreal. 

He  clasped  her  with  a  fierce,  exultant 
joy. 

"  You    love    me   in    spite   of    dis  ? "  he 


1 88  In  "God's  Country." 

asked,  looking  down  at  his  coarse  attire. 
"  You  love  me  in  spite  of  dat  I  am  your 
nigga?  " 

"  In  spite  of  all,"  she  faltered. 

It  was  out  at  last :  the  crest  of  victory 
sank  in  inglorious  surrender.  Her  humili 
ation  was  his  triumph. 

He  looked  at  her  with  a  face  radiant, 
shining  with  a  beauty  not  of  earth. 

"Liebchen,"  he  whispered,  "it  is 
divine." 

"  You  vill  gome  mit  me  to  mein  goun- 
try  ? "  he  asked  presently. 

She  laid  a  ringer  on  his  lip.  "  Don't," 
she  said ;  "  I  can't  bear  it." 

"  I  vill  not  be  a  vagabond  in  mein  own 
gountry ;  we  vill  be  very  happy.  Gome 
mit  me,  Liebchen." 

He  would  not  be  a  vagabond  in  his  own 
country.  The  information  that  would 


In  "  God's  Country."  189 

have  been  worth  much  to  her  once  was 
worth  nothing  now.  She  scarcely  heard 
it. 

"I  can't  do  that,"  she  said.  "You 
must  go,  and  I  must  stay  here  and  do  as  I 
have  promised ;  but  I  wanted  to  tell  you 
that  I  know  I  have  been  very  cruel,  and 
that  I  am  very  sorry.  It  was  hard  for  me, 
too,  and  I  could  not  trust  myself  to  be 
kind." 


IX. 

IT  seemed  but  a  moment  she  had  been 
sitting  there  with  his  arms  around  her  and 
his  head  upon  her  breast,  but  the  east  was 
red  and  the  sun  was  almost  up.  Lydia 
rose  wearily.  The  sense  of  defeat,  that 
was  more  fatiguing  than  the  struggle, 
clung  to  her.  "  It's  time  you  were  gone," 
she  said.  He  took  her  hands  in  his  and 
asked,  with  searching  earnestness, 

"  If  you  love  me,  vy  vill  you  not  gome 
mit  me  ? " 

"  I  can't,"  she  answered,  too  tired  for 
explanation. 

"  Is  it  your  fader  ?  "  he  asked. 

She  nodded,  and  said  good-bye,  looking 

up  at  him  with  a  tender  glow  on  her  face. 
190 


In  "  God's  Country"  191 

The  hair  streaming  about  her  shoulders 
had  caught  the  flame  of  sunrise  like  a 
torch.  He  stooped  and  touched  it  with  his 
lips  as  reverently  as  he  would  have  kissed 
the  garment  of  a  saint.  As  Lydia  turned 
from  the  door  her  eye  encountered  the 
figure  of  Beverly  Johnson  standing  in  the 
garden  below. 

Beverly  had  driven  to  town  with  the 
Colonel  the  day  before  ;  it  was  eleven 
o'clock  at  right  when  they  returned,  and 
rather  than  go  on  to  his  own  place,  which 
was  several  miles  down  the  road,  he  had 
stayed  all  night,  as  he  frequently  did  on 
such  occasions.  It  happened  this  morning 
that  there  was  some  urgent  reason  for  his 
being  at  home  early,  and  he  did  not  wait 
for  the  Colonel's  late  breakfast,  but  came 
down  as  soon  as  it  was  light  and  ordered 
his  horse.  While  waiting  for  the  horse  to 


1 92  In  "  God's  Country." 

be  brought  round  he  walked  up  and  down 
the  porch  in  the  cool,  bracing  air.  In  one 
of  the  garden-beds  a  belated  rose  was 
blooming.  It  was  small  and  imperfect, 
but  it  was  the  color  of  those  Lydia  had 
worn  that  day  she  went  to  drive  with  him, 
and  it  conjured  before  him  a  vivid  image 
of  her  as  she  looked  that  afternoon.  He 
went  out  to  get  it,  and  as  he  stuck  it  in  his 
buttonhole  he  glanced  up  at  Lydia's  win 
dow.  There  was  no  sign  of  anyone  stir 
ring  inside,  and  he  knew  she  was  not  an 
early  riser.  His  eyes  wandered  idly  along 
the  upper  porch  until  they  reached  Karl's 
room,  and  there  were  riveted  by  the  spec 
tacle  of  his  affianced  wife  coming  out  of 
the  gardener's  room  with  dishevelled  hair 
and  white,  tear-stained  face.  Their  eyes 
met,  and  instantly  Lydia  realized  all  that 
the  discovery  involved— Pev's  renvmcia- 


In  "  God's  Country"  193 

tion  of  her,  her  own  disgrace,  and  Karl's 
death  unless  he  could  escape  immediately. 

If  Bev  did  not  kill  him  her  father  would. 
They  would  ask  no  questions  :  what  Bev 
had  seen  would  be  enough.  For  a  moment 
Beverly  stood  as  one  paralyzed,  then 
turned  and  ran  up  the  steps  of  the  porch 
with  ominous  haste.  Perhaps  he  did  not 
know  of  the  back  stairway  leading  to  the 
room,  or  forgot  it  in  his  hurry.  He  did 
not  attempt  to  reach  them  by  it,  but 
knocked  violently  on  the  Colonel's  door.' 
Lydia  heard  the  knock  and  knew  there  was 
no  time  to  lose. 

"  Karl,"  she  said,  "  you  must  fly  for  yuh 
life.  Don't  stop  to  take  anything  with 
you,  an'  don't  try  to  get  clear  off.  Go 
down  the  back  stairs  an'  out  by  the  garden. 
Maybe  you  can  get  to  the  creek  before 
they  catch  you,  an'  you  can  hide  there  so 


194  I'1  "  God's  Country" 

they  can't  find  you.  Wait  in  the  place 
where  we  used  to  go  for  ferns,  an'  as  soon 
as  it's  safe  I'll  send  yuh  things  by 
Schneider." 

She  spoke  hurriedly,  and  pushed  him 
toward  the  stairway,  but  Karl  seemed  in 
no  haste  to  go. 

"  Vat  vill  dey  do  mit  you  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  don't  know,  but  it  makes  no  diff'r- 
ence  :  don't  stop  to  think  o'  that." 

"  I  dink  of  notting  else,"  said  Karl.  "  I 
vill  not  leave  you  ;  ve  vill  go  togedder." 

"  For  God's  sake,  don't  waste  a  min 
ute  !  "  she  said,  in  an  agony  of  entreaty. 
"  We  can't  both  get  away  now.  If  you 
escape  I  may  come  to  you,  but  if  you  stay 
here  they  will  kill  you." 

They  were  coming  up  the  back  stairway ; 
they  were  almost  at  the  top,  and  Karl 
had  not  moved.  "  You  vill  gome  to  me  ?  " 


In  "  God's  Country."  195 

he  asked  again,  and  added  doggedly,  "  I 
vill  not  stir  mitoud  your  promise." 

"Yes,  yes,  I'll  come,"  she  answered, 
dropping  limply  Into  a  chair. 

Karl  sprang  from  the  room  as  the  two 
men  entered  it,  and  Lydia,  pale  and 
motionless,  sat  unconscious  of  their  pres 
ence,  while  they  rushed  past  her  with  only 
one  thought — to  lay  hold  of  Karl.  There 
was  no  way  for  him  to  get  down-stairs  from 
that  side  of  the  house,  and  they  supposed 
he  had  run  along  the  porch  in  the  attempt 
to  escape  through  the  main  building. 
While  they  searched  the  house,  Karl,  who 
had  swung  himself  off  the  porch  by  the 
grape-vine  at  the  end  of  it,  was  making 
his  way  to  the  vineyard,  screened  by  the 
numerous  outhouses  that  dotted  the  back 
yard.  Through  the  thick  foliage  of  the 
vineyard  he  ran  unobserv.d  to  the  creek. 


196  In  "  God's  Country." 

Here,  for  a  time  at  least,  he  was  safe.  He 
knew  where  there  was  a  cavern  in  the  rock 
large  enough  for  a  man  to  hide  in.  He 
had  seen  it  that  day  when  he  swung  over 
the  cliff  to  get  the  flowers  for  Lydia.  He 
ran  along  the  edge  of  the  creek  until  he 
came  opposite  the  place,  waded  across,  and 
climbed  up  by  the  help  of  the  brush  that 
grew  along  the  side  of  the  rock.  The 
mouth  of  the  cavern  was  covered  with  a 
mat  of  Virginia  creeper,  green  when  he 
last  saw  it,  now  burning  red.  He  pushed 
aside  the  vine  and  crept  in.  The  rock 
bottom  of  the  cavern  was  covered  with  a 
deposit  of  leaves  and  mould  that  was  soft 
and  warm.  He  stretched  himself  out  upon 
it  and  drew  the  mat  of  creeper  over  the 
opening.  He  had  not  slept  for  twenty-four 
hours  ;  he  was  fatigued  with  his  long  run, 
and  wet  from  his  dip  in  the  creek,  and  he 


In  "  God's  Country."  197 

hungered  with  the  keen  hunger  that 
comes  of  exercise  and  faultless  diges 
tion  ;  he  was  an  exile,  and  he  was  being 
hunted  to  the  death  ;  but  he  was  young 
and  he  was  in  love.  He  heard  the  bark 
ing  of  dogs  and  the  clatter  of  hoofs,  and 
knew  they  were  looking  for  him.  He 
could  even  hear  the  snapping  of  twigs 
as  they  passed  along  the  bluff  close  to 
his  hiding-place  ;  but  he  saw  only  Lydia 
as  she  stood  by  him  in  the  dawn,  with 
the  tender  glow  on  her  face  and  the 
flame  of  sunrise  on  her  hair.  He  turned 
on  his  bed  of  leaves  and  slept  like  a 
god. 

There  was  no  one  in  the  house  that 
day  but  Lydia.  She  knew  that  her  father 
and  Bev  were  looking  for  Karl,  and 
that  they  would  not  stop  till  they  found 
him.  She  knew  what  they  would  do 


198  In  "  God's  Country." 

when  they  had  found  him,  and  that  it 
was  not  Karl's  fault,  but  hers.  In  one 
thoughtless  moment  she  had  brought 
about  this  terrible  state  of  affairs,  in  the 
disgrace  of  which  Bev  and  her  father 
shared  equally  with  her,  though  the 
danger  was  Karl's.  Why  could  she  not 
have  let  him  go  in  peace  ?  What  gall 
and  wormwood  it  must  be  to  Bev  to  dis 
cover  such  a  rival !  She  knew  he  loved 
her.  To  have  lost  her  would  have  been 
pain  enough  without  this  bitter  humilia 
tion.  She  could  not  think  of  her  father. 
The  thought  uppermost  was  to  get  away 
anywhere  so  that  she  might  never  look 
into  his  face  again.  She  could  think  of 
nothing  more  terrible  than  meeting  him. 
In  the  old  proud,  defiant  days  she  had 
shrunk  from  the  disgrace  of  being  the 
wife  of  her  father's  servant :  how  infr 


In  "God's  Country."  199 

nitely  worse  was  this !  It  was  not  as  bad 
as  they  thought,  but  it  was  bad  enough  • 
and  they  would  never  know  just  how  it 
was.  They  would  never  know  of  that 
long,  weary  struggle  and  the  victory, 
which,  though  dimmed  by  the  confession 
of  her  love  for  Karl,  would  still  have 
been  a  victory  but  for  Bev's  untimely 
appearance.  Why  had  she  gone  out 
there  ?  she  asked  herself  in  an  agony 
of  self-reproach.  There  had  been  no 
thought  of  shame  or  fear  in  her  mind 
when  she  went.  It  did  not  seem  wrong 
to  go.  It  did  not  seem  wrong  to  be 
there  as  long  as  no  one  knew  it  but  them 
selves.  Nothing  she  had  done  was  really 
wrong  :  it  was  simply  Bev's  construction 
of  the  situation  that  made  it  terrible.  It 
seemed  to  her  that  by  the  mere  discovery 
the  aspect  of  the  whole  affair  was  changed : 


200  In  "God's  Country," 

an  act  harmless  in  itself  had  became 
heinous  by  being  witnessed.  She  even 
thought  differently  of  it  herself  now.  She 
looked  at  it  with  the  eyes  of  those  who 
would  judge  her,  and  she  could  find  for 
it  no  shadow  of  excuse.  Karl  had  said 
he  was  not  a  vagabond  in  his  own 
country,  and  she  felt  it  to  be  true  ;  but 
her  father  would  not  be  so  easily  con 
vinced  ;  let  Karl  be  what  he  might,  her 
trespass  was  equally  unpardonable  in 
their  eyes.  She  seemed  to  have  no  feel 
ing  left.  Even  the  love  that  had  been 
tugging  at  her  heart  with  such  maddening 
persistence  all  these  months  was  crushed 
and  voiceless.  When  she  thought  of 
meeting  Karl  again,  it  was  only  as  a 
means  of  saving  him  from  death,  and 
escaping  herself  from  the  possibility  of 
again  meeting  her  father.  There  was  not 


In  "God's  Country."  201 

the  faintest  thrill  of  pleasure  in  the  antic 
ipation.  Her  duty  was  to  Karl,  because 
it  was  her  fault  that  he  was  being  hunted 
to  the  death.  Perhaps  she  might  find  in 
that  far  country  an  asylum  from  Bev's 
scorn,  her  father's  outraged  honor,  and 
her  own  shame.  This  was  her  brightest 
hope. 

In  assisting  him  to  escape  she  must  have 
help.  She  knew  she  could  not  depend  on 
any  of  the  negroes.  The  only  chance  of 
escape  turned  upon  Schneider,  and  she  was 
by  no  means  sure  of  him.  At  noon,  when 
he  came  to  dinner,  she  sent  for  him  to 
come  to  the  house. 

"  Schneider,"  she  asked,  dubiously,  "  can 
I  trust  you  to  do  something  for  Karl  ?" 

A  gleam  of  animation  passed  over  the 
habitually  stolid  face. 

"  Yah,  yah,  you  can,"  he  answered. 


202  In  "  God's  Country." 

"Where  are  'Laric  an'  Black  Fanny  ?" 
"  Over  in  de  pasture  by  de  creek." 
"  Well,  some  time  this  evenin'  1  w*m 
you  to  put  black  Fanny  in  the  stable  where 
I  can  get  her,  an'  to-night,  after  they  have 
all  gone  to  bed,  put  a  saddle  on  'Laric  an' 
lead  him  up  the  creek  to  that  high  bluff  in 
Major  Garland's  fiel'.  You'll  fin'  Karl 
there.  Leave  the  hawse  with  him,  an'  tell 
him  I'll  meet  him  an  hour  befoah  day  at 
the  top  of  the  cliff  where  we  use'  to  hitch 
the  pha'ton.  Don'  let  anybody  see  you 
goin',  an'  remember  his  life  depen's  on 
your  gettin'  there  in  time." 

Her  plan  was  to  gallop  across  the  coun 
try  to  some  small  station,  where  there 
would  be  little  probability  of  herself  or  the 
horses  being  recognized,  and  there  take  the 
train.  It  would  be  necessary  to  ride  a  con 
siderable  distance,  but  the  country  was  as 


In  "  God's  Country"  203 

familiar  to  her  as  a  well-thumbed  map,  and 
if  they  could  get  an  hour's  start  on  Alaric 
and  Black  Fanny  they  were  safe.  She  did 
not  attempt  to  encumber  her  flight  with  any 
thing  in  the  shape  of  baggage.  She  took 
what  money  was  in  her  purse,  and  some 
jewels  she  thought  might  prove  useful,  and 
alone  in  her  room  awaited  the  hour  of 
flight. 

The  Colonel  and  Bev  came  in  that  night 
from  a  fruitless  chase.  They  turned  the 
horses  out,  but  did  not  go  to  bed.  They 
had  made  diligent  search  wherever  they 
thought  it  possible  for  a  man  to  conceal 
himself  in  a  country  so  open.  They  had 
questioned  everybody  they  met,  but  no 
body  had  seen  Karl.  They  were  now  con 
vinced  that  he  was  concealed  somewhere 
about  the  house,  and  they  did  not  doubt 
that  he  would  make  an  attempt  to  escape 


204  In  "  God's  Country." 

that  night.  With  an  indifference  to  fatigue, 
inspired  by  a  burning  desire  for  ven 
geance,  Beverly  watched  the  front  of  the 
house  all  night,  gun  in  hand,  while  the 
Colonel,  similarly  equipped,  guarded  the 
rear.  They  were  so  well  prepared  for 
Karl  that  he  could  not  possibly  have  es 
caped  ;  but  they  were  wholly  unprepared 
for  what  did  happen.  It  was  in  that  dim 
hour  between  day  and  night  that  Beverly 
saw  a  slender,  darkly-habited  figure  steal 
out  of  the  house  and  creep  stealthily  across 
the  lawn  in  the  direction  of  the  stable  lot. 
He  could  not  fire  upon  it,  and  he  could  not 
molest  it,  because  he  was  sure  it  was  on  its 
way  to  Karl,  and  it  was  Karl  he  wanted. 
His  only  chance  was  to  follow  it,  but  he 
had  no  horse.  If  he  went  for  the  horse,  he 
would  miss  the  direction,  which  he  could 
only  get  by  keeping  an  eye  on  Lydia.  If 


In  "  God's  Country."  205 

he  attempted  to  call  the  Colonel,  she  would 
know  that  she  was  discovered  and  would 
mislead  him.  Several  minutes  were 
wasted  in  an  agony  of  indecision,  and  then 
he  fired  the  gun  into  the  air.  The  shot 
was  answered  by  a  yelping  chorus  of  dogs. 
It  brought  the  Colonel  to  the  spot  instant 
ly,  but  it  also  informed  Lydia  that  she  had 
been  seen.  She  remembered  that  the 
horses  had  been  turned  into  the  pasture 
adjoining  the  lawn,  and  that  Bev's  horse 
was  very  hard  to  catch.  She  knew  that  if 
she  could  once  get  started,  nothing  else 
could  overtake  them,  and  she  resolved  to 
risk  it. 

As  the  Colonel  came  round  the  corner  of 
the  house,  she  sprang  over  the  rock  fence 
that  inclosed  the  stable  lot.  They  could 
net  see  her  for  the  darkness,  but  they 
could  hear  the  horse's  hoofs  thumping  the 


206  In  "God's  Country." 


ground  as  she  bounded  along  the  avenue 
at  her  utmost  speed. 

"  It's  her,"  said  Bev.  "  She's  gone  to 
him,  and  now  we'll  find  him." 

There  was  a  sharp  clatter  of  hoofs  as 
she  crossed  the  pike,  and  they  fell  again 
with  a  muffled  beat  as  she  rode  into  the 
lane. 

"She's  gone  down  the  dirt  road,"  said 
Bev.  "  He  mus'  be  somewhere  about  the 
creek." 

Lydia  had  counted  correctly  upon  the 
difficulty  of  catching  the  horses.  With  the 
greatest  haste,  it  was  fifteen  minutes  before 
the  Colonel  was  mounted,  and  then  he  was 
compelled  to  go  on  without  Bev,  who  was 
still  vainly  endeavoring  to  beguile  his  wary 
horse  into  the  bridle.  But  when  she 
reached  the  bluff  where  Karl  was  waiting 
"ir  her,  she  found  that  it  was  later  than 


In  "God's  Country"  207 

she  thought  when  she  started.  It  was 
already  light  enough  for  her  to  see  the 
forms  of  Karl  and  the  horse  he  was  hold 
ing  by  the  bridle  rudely  blocked  against 
the  sky.  She  did  not  ride  into  the  field, 
but  beckoned  him  to  come  on.  It  was 
with  infinite  relief  she  saw  him  mount  from 
the  ground  with  a  splendid  spring,  and 
take  the  fence  instead  of  waiting  to  open 
the  gate.  Because  he  played  the  piano 
and  did  not  care  to  be  a  soldier,  she  was 
accustomed  to  regarding  him  as  destitute 
of  manly  accomplishments,  and  all  day  she 
had  been  haunted  by  the  fear  that  he 
would  not  be  able  to  manage  Alaric,  a 
horse  that  required  a  firm  hand  and  a 
steady  seat.  He  could  ride,  and  she  felt 
encouraged  for  the  race  that  was  to  tax 
both  themselves  and  the  horses  to  the  ut 
most.  As  he  rode  up  to  her  and  drew  rein, 


208  ///  "  God's   Country:' 

she  tapped  Black  Fanny  with  the  whip  and 
.aid,  "  Come  on,  they  are  aftah  us." 

The  winding  creek  hemmed  them  on  all 
sides  but  one.  The  lane  led  up  to  Major 
Garland's  house,  and  had  no  outlet  but 
the  one  through  which  she  had  entered  it. 
They  were  compelled  to  come  back  to  the 
pike,  and  much  of  the  advantage  of  the 
start  was  thus  lost.  Lydia  felt  that  their 
only  hope  lay  in  the  delay  in  catching  the 
horses,  and  even  this  was  a  desperate  one. 
They  flew  along  the  mile  of  lane  and 
dashed  into  the  pike  abreast.  The  horses 
were  splendidly  matched  in  speed,  and  as 
they  ran  like  the  wind  along  the  level 
stretch  of  pike  in  the  tingling  air  of  early 
morning,  Lydia  forgot  the  disgrace  of  her 
flight  and  the  desperate  chances  of  the 
chase ;  forgot  she  was  running  away  with 
her  father's  servant,  and  that,  for  one  of 


///  "  God's  Country."  209 

them  at  least,  death  was  imminent ; — for 
got  everything  in  the  exhilarating  impetus 
of  their  tremendous  pace  but  the  fact  that 
Karl  rode  at  her  side  like  one  to  the  man 
ner  born.  They  had  been  on  the  pike  five 
minutes  when  Lydia,  looking  behind,  saw 
a  single  horseman  far  behind  them  dimly 
sketched  upon  the  paling  sky.  At  first  she 
could  not  tell  which  it  was  ;  but  as  it  grew 
gradually  lighter  she  recognized  her  father 
by  the  color  of  his  horse  and  his  pose  in 
the  saddle.  Her  surprise  was  equal  to  her 
relief,  in  discovering  that  it  was  her  father 
and  that  he  was  alone.  She  could  not 
understand  why  Bev  had  not  come  with 
him.  If  he  could  not  get  his  own  horse, 
she  thought  he  would  have  taken  some 
thing  else.  His  behavior  was  inexplicable, 
but  through  it  they  were  saved.  Her 
father  could  not  overtake  them  ;  it  was  not 


210  In  "God's  Country." 

worth  while  to  press  the  horses;  all  that 
was  necessary  was  to  keep  at  a  safe  dis 
tance  from  him  until  the  gray  mare  gave 
out,  and  keep  steadily  on  in  the  direction 
they  had  first  taken.  By  the  time  they 
reached  the  point  she  had  in  her  mind  they 
would  have  left  him  far  behind,  even  if  he 
did  not  give  up  the  chase  when  he  saw  that 
it  was  hopeless.  She  drew  rein  and  ran  at 
an  easier  gait,  measuring  her  pace  with 
the  accuracy  of  a  thorough  knowledge  of 
the  horses  and  what  they  had  to  accom 
plish. 

It  was  with  many  a  deep  imprecation 
that  Colonel  Ransome  recognized  the  two 
best  horses  on  his  place  and  divined  the 
plan  of  the  fugitives  as  he  saw  them 
slacken  speed.  The  audacity  of  it  filled 
him  with  tempestuous  wrath.  He  saw  that 
pursuit  was  futile,  but  he  rode  on,  profane 


///  "God's  Country.'"  211 

ejaculations  alternating  with  the  prayer 
that  Bev  might  come  at  last.  It  was  some 
time  before  Lydia  looked  back  again,  and 
when  she  did,  she  saw  far  behind  her 
father  another  horseman  spurring  toward 
them,  and  even  at  that  distance  and  in  that 
dim  light  she  could  recognize  the  magnifi 
cent  stride  of  Bev's  favorite  hunter.  Her 
heart  sank ;  she  leaned  close  to  Karl  and 
said,  "  Let  him  go ;  it's  Bev,  an'  he's  ridin' 
Selim." 

They  could  easily  beat  her  father,  but 
they  could  not  beat  Bev.  She  knew  they 
could  not  possibly  reach  the  station  she 
had  in  her  mind  before  they  would  be 
overtaken.  What  chance  was  left  ?  The 
stress  of  thought  in  the  attempt  to  devise 
some  other  plan  was  as  tremendous  as 
their  pace.  It  was  getting  lighter  every 
moment,  and  presently  she  saw  a  long 


212  In  "God's  Country" 

black  line  of  smoke  trailing  across  the 
horizon  behind  them  ;  it  was  the  train 
from  Lexington  and  it  was  coming  toward 
them  ;  in  twenty  minutes  it  would  be  at 
Spring  Station,  where  it  would  make  but 
a  moment's  stop.  If  they  could  reach 
there  at  the  precise  moment,  they  were 
safe.  Before  Bev  could  reach  the  station 
and  take  any  measures  to  stop  them,  they 
would  have  arrived  at  the  next,  where  they 
could  leave  the  train  and  thus  throw  them 
off  the  scent.  The  plan  shaped  itself  with 
the  rapidity  of  desperation.  A  mile  dis 
tant  across  some  fields  there  was  a  pike 
that  led  directly  to  the  station. 

'*  This  way,"  she  called  to  Karl,  as  she 
wheeled  and  dashed  over  the  rock  fence 
uito  a  stubble  field.  Karl  followed,  and 
on  they  went  over  fences,  ditches,  ravines, 
all  fear  extinguished  in  the  excitement  of 


In  "  God's  Country  r  213 

the  race.  Each  time  she  looked  back  she 
could  see  that  Bev,  who  was  now  in  the 
lead,  was  steadily  gaining  on  them ;  but 
every  minute  brought  them  nearer  to  the 
station.  The  engine  was  whistling  at 
Payne's  ;  a  single  whistle — it  would  not 
stop  there  ;  in  three  minutes  it  would  be  at 
Midway;  in  five  more  it  would  reach 
the  station  whose  shingle  roof  they  could 
already  see  above  the  trees ;  another 
field,  and  they  would  reach  the  pike.  On 
the  other  side  of  the  fence  they  were 
approaching  was  a  deep  depression  that 
made  it  an  ugly  leap.  They  did  not  see 
it  until  it  was  too  late  to  take  the  fence  at 
another  point.  The  horses  went  at  it  gal 
lantly  ;  Alaric  made  it  with  something  to 
spare,  but  Fanny,  missing  it  by  a  hair's 
breadth,  slipped  back  into  the  ditch. 

As  Lydia  clambered  unhurt  out  of  the 


214  -to  "  God's  Country," 

ravine,    she    saw    Karl,    who    had    ridden 
back,  in  the  act  of  dismounting. 

"  Don't  stop  a  minute,"  she  called  to 
him.  "  I  am  not  hurt,  but  I  can't  go  on : 
the  mare  has  broken  her  leg.  Take  this— 
you'll  need  it,"  she  said,  offering  him  her 
purse  and  a  pistol  she  had  cautiously 
secured  before  starting.  Karl  took  only 
the  pistol. 

"  Get  up  mit  me,"  he  insisted. 

"  He  can't  make  it  with  both  of  us,"  she 
answered  ;  and  then,  remembering  his  pre 
vious  obstinacy,   added  hurriedly,  "  Go  on 
go   on ;  I'll   come  if  you   get  away." 

He  sprang  into  the  saddle.  As  they  had 
ridden  on  she  had  told  him  of  her  plan, 
and  now  as  he  darted  away  she  called  after 
him,  "Keep  to  the  pike  when  you  have 
crossed  this  fiel',  an'  turn  to  the  right  at 
the  forks." 


In  "  God's  Country:1  215 

It  was  but  an  instant  lost,  but  Bev  had 
gained  that  much.  For  a  moment  she 
looked  down  at  Fanny  with  a  heart  full 
of  self-reproach.  If  she  had  only  seen 
that  place  sooner.  Then  her  eyes  followed 
Karl,  who  had  taken  his  last  fence  and  was 
careering  down  the  pike.  He  rode  like  a 
centaur,  and  he  was  certainly  getting  the 
utmost  speed  out  of  Alanc.  Close  behind 
her  there  was  an  ominous  thunder  of  hoofs, 
and  as  she  turned,  Bev  rose  over  the 
shoulder  of  the  hill  and  spurred  past  her 
like  the  herald  of  doom.  As  he  leaped  the 
fence,  his  quick  eye  took  in  the  horse  in  the 
ditch  and  her  figure  standing  on  the  brink. 

Lydia  now  climbed  into  a  tree  that 
stood  near  the  fence,  to  get  a  better  view 
of  the  road.  Into  the  pike  and  on  Bev 
went,  and  Lydia,  standing  on  one  limb, 
steadying  herself  by  another,  strained  her 


2i6  In  "  God's  Country." 

eyes  upon  the  horseman  who  still  led  t^ 
chase.  He  was  almost  at  the  fork  of  the 
road — now  he  was  there.  A  low  cry 
broke  from  her.  In  his  haste  and  con 
fusion,  or  because  he  had  not  heard  what 
she  said,  he  had  taken  the  wrong  road. 
He  could  not  escape  now.  Bev  was  gain 
ing  on  him  all  the  time.  In  a  few  minutes 
he  would  be  near  enough  to  pick  a  button 
off  Karl's  coat  with  the  weapon  she  was 
sure  he  had,  though  she  could  not  see  it. 

"I  don't  s'pose,"  she  said,  bitterly,  "he 
could  hit  a  flock  o'  barns  with  a  pistol  if  he 
was  standin'  still." 

Karl  saw  his  mistake  now  and  turned 
and  fired,  but  his  pursuer  rode  on  un 
touched.  Lyclia  saw  the  sweep  of  Bev's 
hand  as  he  reached  for  the  pistol  in  his 
hip  pocket,  a  gesture  eloquent  of  death. 

She  closed  her  eyes.     There  was  a  sue- 


In  "God's  Country."  217 

cession  of  sharp  reports  like  the  explosion 
of  a  bunch  of  fire-crackers,  and  then  she 
did  not  hear  even  a  hoof-beat.  She  opened 
her  eyes  with  an  effort.  Bev  was  nowhere 
to  be  seen.  A  single  horseman  rode  on 
into  the  fiery  core  of  sunrise. 


X. 

COLONEL  RANSOME  had  stopped  in  the 
last  field  on  the  hill,  confident  that  Bev 
would  overtake  Karl  in  a  few  minutes. 
He  rode  on  now  as  fast  as  he  could.  When 
he  reached  the  point  where  Bev  had  disap 
peared,  he  found  him  kneeling  on  the 
ground  by  Selim  with  rage  in  his  heart  and 
imprecations  on  his  lips. 

"  How  did  it  happen  ?  "  he  asked,  for  he 
knew  him  to  be  the  best  shot  with  a  pistol 
in  the  country. 

"  The  cap  snapped,"  replied  Bev,  "  an' 
befoah  I  could  fiah  again,  he  had  hit  the 
hawse,  an'  he  fell.  I  shot  as  long  as  I 
had  a  load,  but  he  was  too  far  off.  You 

better   get   a   buggy   an'   take   her   home. 
218 


In  "God's  Country"  219 

She's  over  there  in  the  fiel'  where  Fanny 
fell.  I'll  get  another  hawse  an'  go  on. 
He's  got  to  stop  somewhere,  an*  I  owe  him 
double  now." 

Beverly,  mounted  upon  a  fresh  horse, 
continued  the  chase,  but  he  saw  nothing 
more  of  Karl.  For  a  time  he  followed 
him  by  inquiries  made  along  the  road,  but 
about  noon  he  lost  the  trail  and  shortly 
.after  gave  up  the  search.  If  he  had  not 
gone  on  in  any  of  the  roads  which  Bev 
erly  had  followed,  the  latter  was  convinced 
that  he  must  have  doubled  and  gone  back. 
The  best  chance  now  was  to  lie  in  wait 
for  him  near  the  Colonel's  place,  to  which 
Bev  believed  he  would  sooner  or  later  re 
turn. 

The  negroes  were  saying  to  each  other, 
it  "  wuz  same  as  if  duh  wuz  a  cawpse  in  de 
house."  From  the  moment  of  their  return 


220  In  "God's  Country." 

in  the  morning  neither  Lydia  nor  the 
Colonel  had  been  seen.  The  Colonel's 
room  on  the  ground  floor  was  locked  and 
the  shutters  were  closed,  and  Meriky's 
knocks  at  Lydia's  door  had  elicited  no 
response.  Breakfast  was  ready  when  they 
came  home,  but  neither  went  near  it ;  din 
ner  had  been  served  at  noon  as  usual,  but 
nobody  dined ;  and  now  the  third  meal  of 
the  day  waited  untasted  on  the  table. 

"  Sump'n  pow'ful  curyus  wuz  hatchin* 
when  Mahs  Wick  furgit  he  meals." 

In  that  dark  room  on  the  ground  floor 
sat  Colonel  Ransome,  bowed  by  the  most 
crushing  humiliation  he  could  have  con 
ceived.  To  him  it  was  supreme,  immitiga 
ble  :  the  bitterer  because  it  was  shared 
by  Bev.  There  was  no  room  in  it  for  the 
sympathy  and  condolence  of  friends  :  com 
plete  isolation  was  the  only  salve.  The 


In  "God's  Country:' 


world,  life,  is  worth  just  so  much  to  any 
man  as  he  sees  in  it,  and  for  him  the  world 
had  suddenly  become  uninhabitable-;  life 
was  emptied  of  all  that  made  it  desirable. 
He  sat  astride  a  chair,  with  his  arms 
crossed  and  his  head  bent  upon  the  back. 
Hours  had  passed  since  his  head  had 
been  lifted.  He  could  not  bear  the  light 
of  day.  The  wrath  that  in  the  morning 
had  stirred  and  sustained  him  had  evapo 
rated,  leaving  nothing  but  that  abject 
terror  of  disgrace  that  could  only  be  felt  in 
all  its  intensity  by. a  man  as  proud,  as  im 
patient  of  criticism,  as  haughtily  resentful 
of  contumely  as  he.  Other  women  had 
fallen  into  this  same  pit,  and  he  had  not 
been  astonished,  had  not  been  moved.  It 
was  the  way  of  the  world.  It  would  be,  so 
long  as  men  were  mortal  and  women  weak 
He  had  always  regarded  woman  as  the 


222  In  "  God's  Country:' 

weaker  vessel,  and,  like  other  men  of  his 
mould,  men  in  whom  a  barbaric  vigor  of 
temperament  is  veiled,  not  subdued,  by  the 
ethics  of  civilization,  he  had  not  held  aloof 
from  legitimate  prey.  He  could  have 
looked  back  upon  many  an  intrigue  that 
was  not  attributable  to  the  inexperience 
and  the  riotous  blood  of  youth.  He  was 
wont  to  reply  to  the  soft  impeachments  of 
his  friends  with  the  laughing  rejoinder  that 
he  was  no  "  man  of  wood,"  "  he  wore  no 
halo : "  but  it  did  not  occur  to  him  that 
Lydia,  who  was  his  daughter,  could  not  be 
expected  to  pose  successfully  as  a  graven 
image  of  womanhood  before  the  temptation 
to  which  he  invariably  yielded  without  a 
struggle,  and  with  a  fatuous  pride  in  the 
surrender.  Like  other  men,  he  reverber 
ated  the  adulatory  assumption  that  men  are 
more  merciful  to  women  than  women  are  to 


In  "  God's  Country."  223 

each  other,  and  he  believed  it.  He  had 
found  it  possible  to  bear  himself  with 
easy  leniency  toward  the  transgressions  of 
women  whose  disgrace  did  not  come  home 
to  him.  He  found  no  such  excuses  for  the 
trespass  against  himself.  The  frailty  of 
womankind,  that  opulence  of  nature  which 
leads  astray,  was  a  thing  with  which  he  had 
many  a  time  been  merry  over  his  glass. 
The  follies,  the  small  vanities  of  women, 
had  been  his  amusement.  The  jest  had 
been  juiciest  that  showed  them  weakest, 
the  story  spiciest  that  attributed  to  them  a 
vigor  of  .temperament  surpassing  his  own. 
But  in  discussing  the  sex  he  had  done  so 
always  with  the  egregious  assumption  of 
superiority  in  those  of  his  own  household. 
Was  a  w",man  more  or  less  than  human 
because  she  had  his  blood  in  her  veins  ? 
He  did  nol  stop  to  consider  that.  Other 


224  I*  "God's  Country." 

women  sinned  and  suffered.  That  was 
natural.  Men  were  dishonored  every  day, 
and  the  world  laughed  unctuously  behind 
their  backs.  Th-at  also  was  natural.  But 
his  daughter  !  The  thing  was  unthinkable, 
and  it  was  true.  Had  she  been  the  child 
of  another  he  would  have  found  in  some 
part  of  a  large  and  generous  nature  a  drop 
of  compassion.  It  was  because  she  was 
his  own  that  he  had  no  mercy;  because 
she  was  so  dear  to  him — had  been  his 
glory,  his  pride — was  the  fair  flower  of  a 
love  that  was  a  hallowed  remembrance — 
his  own  heart's  blood — that  he  could  find 
no  extenuation.  She  had  not  only  slain 
his  pride,  but  she  had  brought  into  dis 
honor  an  unsullied  name.  And  men  would 
think  of  her,  speak  of  her,  as  he  had 
thought  and  spoken  of  other  women  simi 
larly  placed.  It  was  part  of  his  punish- 


In  "  God's  Country."  225 

ment  that  the  innumerable  humiliations 
that  Lydia  in  her  ignorance  could  not  know 
or  dream  of  were  present  with  him  in  all 
the  miserable  minutiae  of  disgrace.  It  was 
singular  that  the  leniency  of  which  he  had 
boasted  was  more  terrible  to  him  now  than 
the  fiercest  condemnation.  He  shrank 
from  it  as  from  torture. 

He  did  not  know  of  the  strenuous  fight 
bravely,  silently  carried  on  under  his  very 
eyes.  Had  he  known  of  it  he  could  not 
have  imagined  its  stress.  There  was  no 
point  in  his  experience,  no  stratum  of  his 
nature,  from  which  to  compute  the  inten 
sity,  the  peril,  the  sublime  endurance  of 
that  struggle  waged  between -two  inextin 
guishable  fires,  the  flame  without  and  the 
flame  within.  As  little  could  he  measure 
the  force  of  that  imperious  impulse,  inher 
ent  in  woman  as  in  himself  but  the  more 
15 


226  In  "  God's  Country  r 

formidable  to  her  because  it  comes  to  her 
first  like  a  surprise  in  a  crisis ;  lurks  like 
a  brooding  tempest:  its  strength,  its  pur 
pose,  its  very  existence  unknown  to  her 
until  the  supreme  moment  in  which  it 
sweeps  up  in  full  tide  from  some  abysmal 
depth  of  her  being  in  a  storm  through 
whose  tumult  the  ordinary  affairs  of  life 
show  paltry  and  unreal. 

Accustomed  to  seeing  the  primeval 
instinct  of  nature  masquerading  either  as 
saint  or  devil,  applauded  as  virtue  or  con 
demned  as  vice,  he  could  not  look  upon  it 
in  its  primitive  nakedness  as  an  essential 
impulse  of  that  impersonal  creative  energy 
that  is  neither  the  one  thing  nor  the  other. 
This  view,  which,  while  it  could  not  have 
drawn  the  iron  from  his  soul,  might  have 
moved  him  to  admiration  for  the  victory  so 
nearly  won,  compassion  for  the  defeaf  that 


In  "  God's  Country."  227 

was  inevitable,  was  absent  from  his  creed, 
beyond  the  grasp  of  his  philosophy. 
Equally  remote  was  the  comprehensive 
charity  of  "  Go,  and  sin  no  more."  That 
might  suffice  for  God  and  a  better  world, 
but  it  would  not  answer  here.  The  keen 
est  agony  of  all  lay  in  the  thought  that 
she  must  drag  her  bruised  and  tarnished 
womanhood  to  the  bitter  end  of  life, 
shunned  by  the  women,  preyed  upon  by 
the  men  who  had  delighted  in  honoring 
her.  Had  he  been  a  Catholic,  the  cloister 
might  have  screened  her ;  but  for  the  Prot 
estant  there  was  no  such  refuge.  To  com 
mit  her  to  the  Roman  Church  was  to 
commit  her  to  the  devil,  according  to  his 
belief ;  and  yet  in  some  way  she  must  be 
saved  from  that  lingering  shame  in  the 
extremity  of  which  she  might  be  driven  to 
further  sin.  All  day  and  far  into  the  night 


228  In."  God's  Country." 

he  sat  with  this  fanged  thought  rioting  upon 
him.  In  this  sweat  of  anguish  the  amiable 
complaisance,  this  debonair  tolerance,  the 
superficial  gallantry  of  the  man  of  the 
world  fell  away  like  a  gay  garment  cast  in 
a  fight,  and  the  rugged  fibre  of  the  real 
man  stood  forth  in  nude  supremacy  of  re 
solve,  in  a  pagan  simplicity  of  purpose, 
beside  which  the  frail  code  that  bound  him 
was  as  gossamer,  and  the  creed  that 
claimed  him  dwindled  infinitesimally. 

At  last  he  rose,  felt  in  the  top  drawer  of 
the  bureau  for  something  he  knew  was 
there,  and  put  it  in  his  pocket.  He  felt 
his  way  through  the  darkness  to  the  stair 
way,  mounted  it,  and  stopped  at  his  daugh 
ter's  door.  He  walked  heavily,  and  Lydia 
knew  the  step.  When  the  expected  knock 
came  she  got  up  and  opened  the  door. 
She  had  been  lying  on  the  bed  in  her  habit 


In  "  God's  Country"  229 

just  as  she  returned  from  the  ride.  There 
was  no  light  in  the  room  but  that  of  the 
full  October  moon;  but  that  was  enough. 
Her  father's  face  was  white  and  haggard; 
the  story  of  the  last  two  days  was  carved 
upon  it  ineffaceably.  It  was  of  him  she 
had  been  thinking  all  day.  After  Karl's 
escape  she  had  not  thought  of  him.  She 
had  not  looked  in  her  father's  face  as  they 
drove  silently  home  that  morning,  but  she 
had  felt  all  that  he  felt.  She  had  never 
dreamed  that  anything  in  life  or  death,  or 
in  that  grim  reckoning  she  had  been  taught 
to  expect  after  death,  could  be  so  full  of 
poignant  agony  as  that  drive  had  been. 
Through  the  long  day  and  night  she  had 
been  thinking  of  him,  and  her  heart  came 
back  to  him  with  a  strenuous  rebound.  She 
had  always  loved  him  with  a  devotion  as 
rare  as  it  was  beautiful.  It  seemed  to  her 


230  In  "  God's  Country." 

that  she  had  never  loved  him  as  she  did 
now,  when  she  knew  that  he  was  bowed 
beneath  the  weight  of  a  humiliation  with 
which  she  alone  had  power  to  crush  him. 
The  sight  of  his  face  wrung  her  as  nothing 
else,  jiot  even  Karl's  death,  could  have 
wrung  her.  She  moved  a  chair  toward  him 
mechanically,  but  he  did  not  notice  it. 
He  came  close  to  her,  but  did  not  look  at 
her,  and  their  faces  were  spectral  in  the 
uncertain  light. 

"  Lydia,"  he  said,  "  when  a  girl  has  done 
what  you  have,  there  is  only  one  other 
thing  that  can  be  done  with  decency. 
Your  marriage  with  Bev  can  not  come  off 
now,  and  aftah  this  day's  work  we  can't 
hope  to  keep  the  reason  a  secret.  There 
is  only  one  thing  I  can  see  to  do,"  he  went 
on,  in  a  steady  voice  :  "  can  you  do  it,  or 
must  I  ?  " 


In  "God's  Country."  231 

He  looked  at  her  fixedly.  She  was  so 
unmoved,  so  passive  under  his  question, 
that  he  thought  she  had  not  understood  it ; 
but  before  he  could  repeat  it  she  answered, 
"  I  will  do  it,  father,"  in  a  voice  as  steady 
as  his  own. 

He  was  not  yet  quite  sure  that  she  con 
ceived  him  fully.  He  took  something  out 
of  his  pocket,  laid  it  on  the  dressing-table, 
and  turned  toward  the  door. 

"  Father,  you'll  kiss  me  first  ? " 

The  tone  was  tremulous  now  and  plead 
ing. 

Her  father  paused  upon  the  threshold 
and  half  turned.  He  would  have  done  it 
if  he  could.  Had  the  lover  been  worthy  of 
her,  he  might  even  have  condoned  the 
rest.  But  she  had  turned  from  the  man 
who  loved  her  worthily  io  debase  her  eyes 
U^on  a  servant.  He  thought  of  Bev,  the 


232  In  "  God's  Country." 

son  of  his  best  friend,  the  man  who  had 
generously  rescued  him  from  ruin,  whose 
head,  like  his  own,  was  bowed  in  shame  ; 
thought  of  the  ignoble  lover  she  had 
sought  to  save  at  the  expense  of  Bev's  life, 
at  the  expense  of  his  own,  if  need  be ;  and 
he  turned  away.  Even  in  the  awful  shad 
ow  of  what  was  to  come  he  could  not  par 
don  that.  He  went  out  and  shut  the  door. 

"  How  base  I  mus'  be  in  his  eyes," 
thought  Lydia,  "if  he  can  turn  from  me 
like  that,  when  he  knows — " 

She  turned  slowly  and  took  up  the  thing 
he  had  laid  on  the  table.  It  was  a  small 
bowie  knife  in  a  brass-mounted  sheath. 
She  had  seen  it  many  a  time  in  her  father's 
bureau  drawer,  and  had  heard  it  jokingly 
referred  to  as  an  "Arkansas  toothpick." 
It  was  keen-pointed  and  bright.  She  felt 
the  edge  of  it  absently,  laid  it  down,  and 


In  "God's  Country."  233 

began  to  undress.  There  was  no  impulse, 
no  desire  of  appeal  from  the  sentence.  It 
was  her  father's  wish,  and  she  accepted  it 
as  final.  She  would  have  been  glad  could 
he  have  known  that  she  was  less  criminal 
than  he  thought  her,  but  any  attempt  at 
extenuation  would  only  make  her  appear 
less  worthy  of  absolution  in  his  eyes.  It 
was  hard  to  go  unpitied,  unforgiven ;  but 
he  should  see  that  she  did  not  falter.  Per 
haps  in  this  act  of  expiation  she  might  win 
back  some  small  part  of  the  love  she  had 
lost,  of  the  pardon  she  craved.  God  knew 
what  her  father  did  not  know,  and  perhaps 
God  would  be  merciful 

The  long  night  passed.  A  pale  glimmer 
of  dawn  filtered  through  the  green  wooden 
shutters  that  darkened  the  Colonel's  room, 
and  he  rose  with  a  start,  like  one  suddenly 
aroused  from  sleep.  "  Had  she  done  it  ?  " 


234  In  "  God's  Country." 

He  walked  totteringly  out  of  the  room  and 
mounted  the  stairs  slowly,  heavily,  as  one 
who  encounters  an  opposing  force,  and 
stopped  before  Lydia's  door.  The  still 
ness  of  death  brooded  inside.  He  turned 
the  knob  and  went  in.  The  window  was 
open,  and  the  freshening  breeze  of  morn 
ing  parted  the  white  curtains  and  came  in 
saturated  with  the  odor  of  fennel  and  am 
brosia.  On  the  snowy  bed  near  the  win 
dow,  her  head  slightly  sunken  in  the  soft 
pillow,  lay  his  child,  white  and  still  as  a 
parian  bas-relief,  the  kiss  of  eternal  peace 
upon  her  face. 

He  drew  nearer  and  looked  at  her 
steadily.  Beside  her  lay  the  knife,  a 
single  drop  of  blood  on  its  point.  He 
turned  back  the  sheet.  There  was  a  dark 
red  stain  on  her  left  arm,  and  beneath  it 
some  sheets  had  been  folded  thickly  to  ab- 


In  "  God's  Country"  235 

sorb  the  ebbing  current  of  life.  He  noted 
this  and  other  signs  ^f  deliberate  prepara 
tion  with  pained  wonder.  Her  sustained 
courage  awed  him.  He  would  have  done 
it  as  fearlessly,  but  he  must  have  done 
it  more  quickly.  Her  readiness  to  die 
appealed,  as  nothing  else  could,  to  that 
recklessness  of  life  that  was  the  foundation 
of  his  own  courage.  She  shared  with  him 
the  contempt  of  mere  breath  when  all  of 
life  but  breath  had  been  eliminated.  It 
was  the  ring  of  the  true  metal,  and  the  old 
pride  that  lay  with  its  head  in  the  dust 
leaped  up  and  gloried  in  the  fearless,  un 
questioning  atonement.  The  act  knit  him 
to  her  with  strenuous  sympathy ;  it  illu 
mined  for  him  the  life  of  which  he  had 
known  little,  though  its  still  waters  flowed 
so  near  him.  He  choked  now.  His  mas 
sive  chest  heaved,  and  his  eyes  brimmed 


236  In  "  God's  Country." 

over  as  he  looked  down  at  the  face,  fair 
and  fresh  as  it  had  been  in  the  gladdest 
day  of  her  unsullied  girlhood.  She  was 
his  daughter  after  all ;  to  the  last  drop  of 
blood  in  her  veins  she  was  his  own.  She 
had  not  quailed  at  the  sentence,  she  had 
not  faltered  in  the  execution  :  there  was  no 
fear  in  her.  He  knew  she  had  been  proud 
as  he;  she  had  shared  his  prejudices 
as  she  had  shared  his  courage.  Thus 
equipped,  he  could  well  believe  she  had 
not  yielded  tamely.  She  must  have 
suffered.  Such  pride,  such  courage  could 
have  yielded  to  nothing  less  than  the  impe 
rious  passion  that  was  one  of  the  basic 
elements  of  his  own  nature.  In  the  pres 
ence  of  that  supreme  expiation  he  could 
even  look  admiringly  on  the  impetuous 
laring  of  the  love  that  had  wrecked  her. 
Karl  had  said  it  was  divine.  To  her 


In  "  God's  Country"  237 

father  in  this  new  light  it  was  splendidly 
human  in  its  audacity  and  completeness. 
He  could  understand  it  because  it  was 
a  part  of  him.  He  could  now  remember 
with  patience  that  the  gardener  had  a 
handsome  face  and  gentle  ways.  He  had 
noticed  that  himself.  And  whatever  else 
he  may  have  been,  he  was  a  man  and 
young,  and  Lydia  was  beautiful.  The 
marble  majesty  of  death  was  eloquent  for 
her  who  could  not  speak  for  herself.  In 
the  silence  and  dim  dusk  of  that  chamber 
some  things  that  had  been  hidden  were  re 
vealed.  It  was  but  a  glimmer,  but  it  was 
enough.  He  loved  her  dead  as  he  had 
never  loved  her  living ;  he  forgave  her  all. 
The  kiss  of  reconciliation  denied  to  the 
warm,  pleading  mouth  was  passionately 
pressed  on  the  lips  that  could  not  answer 
it. 


238  In  "  God's  Country." 

"  Brave  girl !  brave  girl !  "  he  murmured, 
chokingly. 

In  a  vase  on  the  table  were  some  flowers 
she  had  placed  there  a  few  days  before. 
They  seemed  a  part  of  her.  He  raised 
them  to  his  lips  and  laid  them  on  her 
breast.  As  he  turned  away  from  the  bed, 
the  face  that  looked  at  him  out  of  the  mir 
ror  over  the  dressing-table  was  old,  old ; 
and  the  iron-gray  locks  that  yesterday  set 
off  his  handsome  head  were  white. 

In  the  crisp,  cool  air  of  an  October 
morning  two  men  stood  talking  at  the 
avenue  gate.  They  were  Karl  and 
Schneider,  and  they  spoke  in  German  and 
spoke  softly.  Presently  Schneider  turned 
back  to  the  house.  Karl  lingered  a 
moment  at  the  gate.  "  It  was  divine,"  he 
murmured,  "but  it  is  over."  The  future 


In  "  God's  Country"  239 

dwindled  miserably  before  him ;  his  heart 
was  heavy  and  his  eyes  were  dim ;  but 
through  the  ache  of  withholden  bliss  there 
ran  a  flash  of  exultation — the  other  could 
not  have  her. 

He  walked  on  slowly  until  he  came  to 
the  point  in  the  road  from  which  he  had 
caught  the  first  glimpse  of  the  house  on 
that  April  afternoon.  A  white  rime  lay  on 
the  fences  and  the  fields  that  then  were 
green ;  the  locust  trees  then  full  of  bloom 
were  bare  of  leaves,  and  where  he  had 
gathered  violets  the  golden-rod  hung  out 
its  yellow  tassels,  and  the  dusky  red  berries 
and  brilliant  foliage  of  the  sumach  burned 
above  them.  He  turned  and  looked  across 
"  God's  Country."  The  maple  grove  upon 
the  hill  blazed  red  and  yellow  against  the 
pale  autumn  sky ;  in  the  midst  of  it  the 
Colonel's  house,  square  and  massive,  rose 


240  In  "  God's  Country." 

like  an  altar  wrapped  in  flame,  and  above 
it  the  soft,  dull  haze  of  Indian  summer 
floated  like  the  smoke  of  sacrifice. 

He  heard  but  did  not  heed  the  clatter  of 
hoofs  on  the  pike  behind  him,  till  a  pistol- 
shot  rang  out  sharp  and  clear  in  the  frosty 
air.  Then  he  turned  and  saw  Beverly 
Johnson  riding  toward  him,  pistol  in  hand. 
He  took  from  his  pocket  the  one  Lydia 
had  given  him,  snapped  it  several  times 
to  show  that  it  was  unloaded,  and  threw  it 
from  him.  He  made  no  attempt  to  get 
away,  no  bid  for  quarter  save  the  display 
of  his  empty  weapon.  He  stood  leaning 
carelessly  against  the  bole  of  a  tree  by  the 
roadside,  and  no  muscle  or  line  of  his  face 
changed  as  Beverly  rode  up  to  him  with 
his  finger  on  the  trigger.  The  absolute 
fearlessness  of  pose  and  bearing  would 
under  other  circumstances  have  appealed 


In  "  God's  Country"  241 

strongly  to  Beverly's  admiration.  But 
what  would  have  been  a  splendid  display 
of  courage  in  a  man  who  was  his  equal,  in 
a  servant  was  exasperating  impertinence. 
He  would  have  scorned  to  take  such  an 
advantage  of  a  gentleman,  but  Karl  had  no 
rights.  Moreover,  he  had  loved  success 
fully  the  woman  of  his  choice,  he  had  dis 
honored  him,  and  he  had  killed  his  horse. 
That  fierce  greed  of  absolute  possession 
that  colors  the  love  of  every  man,  and  pro 
claims  his  kinship  with  the  Turk,  had  been 
crossed.  Beverly  fired  with  as  little  com 
punction  as  he  would  have  fired  on  a  thief, 
and  Karl  fell  back  among  the  dry  leaves 
and  grass  on  the  roadside,  pierced  by  two 
bullets  that  had  struck  him  scarcely  an 
inch  apart. 

Beverly's    face,   dark    and    threatening, 

bent   over  him ;  a  spasm  of   pain  crossed 
16 


242  In  "  God's  Country" 

that  of  the  dying  man ;  then  he  looked  up 
at  his  slayer  and  said,  with  a  smile  that 
cheated  vengeance  of  its  triumph, 

"  I  vill  see  her — to-day." 

He  closed  his  eyes,  and,  with  a  long 
respiration  that  was  like  a  sigh  of  relief, 

his  life  went  out. 

*        *        *        *        * 

"  Killed  in  Kentucky "  was  the  head 
line  under  which  the  New  York  Sun  a  few 
days  later  announced  the  death  of  Karl 
and  gave  some  particulars  concerning  him 
until  then  unknown.  "He  was,"  the 
despatch  stated,  "  the  son  of  Prince  Fred 
erick  of  S ,  the  young  Count  Alfred, 

who  had  been  in  America  for  a  year,  dur 
ing  which  time  his  father  had  been  igno 
rant  of  his  whereabouts.  He  had  run 
away  from  the  Bonn  University,  where  he 
was  studying,  because  his  father  wanted 


In  "  God's  Country."  243 

to  force  him  into  a  marriage  that  was  dis 
tasteful  to  him,  and  had,  when  discovered, 
refused  to  return  unless  the  proposed  mar 
riage  were  declared  off.  The  Prince 
finally  relented,  and  his  son  was  on  the 
point  of  leaving  the  country  when  killed. 
When  discovered  he  was  working  as  a  com 
mon  laborer  on  a  farm  in  Kentucky,  and 
was  recognized  by  a  man  named  Schneider, 
who  had  served  in  the  same  regiment  of 
hussars  in  Germany." 

THE  END. 


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